


of whatsapp, wool, and wizarding traditions

by goldtreesilvertree, mothwrites



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: (until Lottie gets bored and sets the plot on fire), Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Harry Potter AU, Multi, all fluff all the time, also Eiffel knits, boarding school shenanigans, it's mostly a comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldtreesilvertree/pseuds/goldtreesilvertree, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: It's a new year at Hogwarts and Doug Eiffel, resident trouble-slash-matchmaker, has his work cut out for him. Also; useless badgers, the summer news round-up, hot chocolate, exploding bludgers, yarnbombing, the perfect first move, and not letting that wuss tell you you can't hold your butterbeer.





	1. autumn term (part one)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's your local epic fantasy au girls with a new fic that's All Fluff, All The Time. We're uploading this one as we go, so the update schedule will be... non-existent! Probably eight chapters or so. It's an experiment.  
> Catch Ada (mothwrites) on tumblr @captainlovelxce and Lottie (goldtreesilvertree) @lottiesnotebook if you want to chat about this AU or yell about our Sorting choices. (And we love comments, so that's a great way to get us to write faster.)

_autumn term_

_(part one)_

_present day_

 

_Dear Minkowski,_

_It’s your traditional summer news round-up! Thanks for being almost the only person to not have an email address, by the way, you make my life_ _so_ _much easier. I’m pretty sure owl post should count as animal cruelty at this point, but if you really want to keep up ‘wizarding traditions’, who am I to stop you?_

 _While you’ve been ‘getting a head-start on our NEWTs’, the rest of us have been actually writing to our friends, so there is a_ _lot_ _for you to catch up on. Jacobi just found out he didn’t get Quidditch Captain for Hufflepuff, so you two can bitch about being passed over and finally have something in common. (He’s sulking even more than when he didn’t get Hufflepuff Prefect last year.) (Never mind that the entire house has lost count of the number of times he’s blown up the common room.) Afraid I still don’t have a lead on who pipped you to the post for Gryffindor captain, but if I find out before term starts you’ll be the first to know. Of course, yours truly will be back in the commentary box for the first match!_

_Hera’s been in France with the Evil Queen, and judging by her letters is looking forward to the start of term even more than you are. Remind me why you aren’t in Ravenclaw again? You nerds belong together. She’s missing Rhea, who got to stay home this time on the pretext of studying for NEWTs. Because Merlin forbid either of them sully the Pryce name with an Exceeds Expectations. (I’d be tempted to swap out Hera’s report card for mine if I didn’t know how much hell her mum would give her.)_

_Kepler and Young from Slytherin got Head Boy and Girl - no surprises there, but I guess that does mean you’ll have to hang around her if you still want the job next year. Tough luck. Your prefect meetings are going to be_ _fun._ _(Try not to kill either of them. It won’t help.)_

 _Jacobi says that Ravenclaw fifth year he adopted is still stalking Hera. Hera, of course, hasn’t noticed. Summer romances seem to be thin on the ground this year - are you still seeing that seventh year, Koudelka, or have you gone back to pining for our lost Lovelace? Maybe she’s come back from the dead just to steal captain from you… Seriously, that’s a rumour I heard earlier. Can’t be crazier than you_ _not_ _getting captain. I bet your letter just got lost in the post or something._

_One last thing: you can tell how bored I’ve been this summer not just by the number of letters I’ve bothered to write you, but also by my latest hobby (see the attached Gryffindor scarf. Don’t look at me like that, you’ll appreciate it in October.) Jacobi says if I fill up our room with wool he’s going to ‘chuck it out the window’, but jokes on him, we live underground. I’m sure he’ll mellow out when he sees the cool fingerless gloves I made him for Quidditch practice. Probably._

_Hope you’ve had a more interesting summer than me. Or at least left your room for something_ _other_ _than Quidditch practice._

 _Your_ _favourite_ _Hufflepuff,_

_Eiffel_

*

Renée Minkowski was _not_ lurking outside the sixth year girls’ dorm trying not to hyperventilate. She was… composing herself. It wasn’t like seeing _Isabel Lovelace_ in her dorm was a traditional part of the first day of the school year. Especially given that Lovelace should not only be a seventh year, but had spent the better part of the previous year missing, presumed dead.   

She heard a loud sigh from behind the door. “Are you coming in or what?” a voice shouted. _Lovelace’s_ voice.

“Y-yes, be right there.” Merlin, did she _stutter?_ This was embarrassing. She grabbed her trunk and dragged it in, noticing with irritation that her usual bed by the window had been claimed already and was now covered in Lovelace’s stuff.

Lovelace herself stood by the bed, hands on her hips, wearing an expression that reminded her of how she didn’t suffer fools. Her black hair, which had once been long and braided, was now a short afro undercut, and she looked… taller. Stronger. A little scarier. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she said, looking Minkowski up and down with an appraising air, “so you get exactly two minutes to annoy me with them. I’ll start you off. Yes, I did spend a year lost in the Forbidden Forest. No, I didn’t _die._ Yes, it _is_ nice to be back, although they’ve stuck me in the year below with _you_ children to ‘catch up’. Anything else?”

Minkowski looked between Lovelace, her trunk, and the bed. “... Can I please have my bunk back?”

Lovelace raised an eyebrow at her. “ _Your_ bunk?”

Minkowski folded her arms, “It’s not like I haven’t been sleeping in it for five years already.”

With a huff, Lovelace started gathering up armfuls of things and dumped them onto the next bed. “ _Fine._ Whatever.” Books, clothes, and something red and shiny fell onto the floor as she moved her belongings over. “Happy?”

Minkowski picked up the red, shiny object to hand it to her, only to blink at what she held in astonishment. “ _You_ got Quidditch Captain?” Eiffel was going to be _thrilled_ at his accidental prophecy _._

She took it defensively and flung it into the bedside drawer. “Problem?”

This was going to be a _fun_ year if Lovelace’s attitude didn’t disperse soon. She hauled her trunk over to the now-abandoned bed and began unpacking meticulously-folded robes into the drawers. “Not at all. You were a great Chaser. Everyone knows that.”

Lovelace seemed a little mollified by the compliment, although her voice lost none of its hard edge. “Yeah, well. You’d better still be a decent keeper, because I intend to _crush_ Slytherin this year. I heard they won in my absence and I’m not letting that go any time soon.”

It had been a _very_ embarrassing year for the Gryffindor team. “Well, our new Chaser wasn’t exactly up to your standard of playing, given that she was only a second year. And there was the Exploding Bludger Incident that injured half the team.” And had lost them a match to _Hufflepuff_ as well as all hope of winning the cup. Eiffel and Jacobi had been more smug than they’d had any right to, given that Eiffel barely supported his own house team and Jacobi’s involvement in the incident had gotten him suspended from playing for a term.

“Exploding…” Lovelace rolled her eyes. “Seems like I missed quite a season. Is that Hufflepuff kid still commentating?”

“Eiffel? Last time I heard he’d hexed the door to the commentator’s box so only he could get in. I don’t think they’ve managed to dispel it yet.” Which was just as well, given the number of complaints the other teams had had about his ‘blatant Gryffindor bias.’

“Hmm. I guess that could work in our favour.” Lovelace sat on the other bed, sorting through her possessions. No-one else had arrived yet, and a silence fell over the dormitory. She tried not to think about tomorrow morning, and how she wouldn’t be walking to class with Lambert, or dragging Fourier and Hui out of the library for lunch, or passing notes in Potions with Fisher. Instead she was stuck in sixth-year, in the sixth-year dormitory, with Renée Minkowski. Who she’d gotten on just _fine_ with before she’d had to spend a year fighting for her life in the forest and forgetting how to talk to other human beings. She coughed, and cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh. Good summer?”

Minkowski looked up from her unpacking, a little startled, “Pretty dull, really. I mostly spent it getting a headstart on the NEWTs. I was disappointed about not getting Quidditch Captain, but I guess that makes sense with you back.” She paused, trying to think of something else to say. “Have you… seen any of your friends yet, or did you just come straight here from the Hall?” The ‘Lovelace Administration’ had been _that group_ in the year above her for her entire time at Hogwarts.

Isabel shrugged, and didn’t look at her ask she spoke. “I couldn’t find them on the train, or in the hall. I guess I’ll see them around. Different houses, you know.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. In truth, she hadn’t _tried,_ because she wanted to avoid the disappointment for as long as possible. It had been a year. They would have moved on, and nothing would be the same if she tried to make it so.

Minkowski looked _irritatingly_ sympathetic. “I guess. I’m sure they’ll come find you soo-”

She was interrupted by a nasally voice from down the stairs. “ _LOVELACE -_ ”

They both jumped. Isabel, almost in a daze, mouthed: “Sam?”

She heard the tell-tale sound of stone stairs morphing into a slide, and a frustrated shout. “ _Isabel Lovelace!”_ Sam continued shouting as she opened the door. She could just see his folded arms and his wrinkly frown from the common room. “Stop ignoring me and come downstairs. It’s the first night back. We’re all going to hang out by the lake like we always do, and you’re coming with me to see our friends whether you like it or not. _”_

Minkowski was failing to cover a laugh, “He sounds pretty determined, you should at least answer him.” As Lovelace leaned out of the doorway to reply that she wasn’t finished unpacking, she felt two hands on her lower back and she was _shoved_ down the slide, landing in the Common Room in a disgruntled heap. Minkowski followed her, landing beside her more gracefully and looking entirely unapologetic.

“ _Finally,_ ” Lambert muttered. “I can’t believe _I’m_ the one dragging _you_ out to socialise. I don’t like it. This is why we need our captain back.” He was looking at her like a wild animal that might pounce on him. So, completely normally. Isabel felt a weight leave her shoulders.

“ _Sam,_ ” she grinned. “What, don’t I get a hug?”

“Hah _hah_ ,” he said sardonically. “You are coming, right? Fisher told me to tell you that you’re not allowed to become a hermit just because you got held back a year. And also you’re not allowed to hit the messenger,” he added quickly.

“She’s _absolutely_ coming with you.” Minkowski hadn’t stopped smiling. And had _clearly_ forgotten they were sharing a dorm now and that vengeance would be swift and painful. And possibly come in the form of early morning Quidditch practice. “Go on, I can finish your ‘unpacking’ quicker than you could.”

“Thanks,” Lovelace ground out. She waited until Minkowski had gone back upstairs and scanned the common room for signs of life before pulling a disgruntled Lambert into a hug. “I missed you, Sam.”

Lambert sighed, patting her awkwardly on the back. “You know I hate it when you call me Sam.”

“Oh yeah,” she pulled back, grinning. “That’s the stuff. Let’s go. There are more nerds I need to hug.”

*

 _Daniel Jacobi_ _  
_ _Hufflepuff Common Room, Sixth-year dormitory_

_I have just been informed that the first Hogsmeade trip is next weekend. Would you care to accompany me? We have much to discuss._

_Warren Kepler_

*

“That’s… certainly a note.” Eiffel handed the scrap of parchment back to Jacobi with an eyeroll. “And you’re showing this to me because…?”

“Because I need _friendship_ and _support,_ you useless badger.” Jacobi stepped back to let Eiffel finally walk into the dorm with his trunk, and flung himself back on the bed. He’d abandoned the pretence of unpacking himself as soon as he’d seen the handsome bronze owl waiting on their windowsill. “What do you think it _means_?”

Eiffel raised an eyebrow, “That the Head Boy wants to go to Hogsmeade with you? I mean, I’m no oracle, but that’s the impression _I_ got from- _hey!_ ” Jacobi had thrown a pillow at his head. “Last time I give you advice if this is the thanks I get!”

“Yes, idiot, but _why_ does he want to go to Hogsmeade with me? You don’t think - “ Jacobi’s eyes widened slightly, and he read the note again for the fiftieth time. “Do you think this is about my Quidditch ban? They said I could come back this term!”

“Because the Head Boy would have so much influence over your Quidditch ban. He _likes_ you, as much as he likes anyone. Why would he get you banned for longer?”

“He doesn’t _like_ me,” Jacobi argued. “I mean… yeah, he sent me some letters over summer, but I don’t have an owl and he doesn’t have WhatsApp, so that didn’t really turn into anything.” Jacobi finally put the letter down, and looked up at Eiffel. “Oh, welcome home, by the way.” He always called it ‘home’, never ‘school’. He would have stayed at Hogwarts all summer if Cutter would let him.

“And yet he kept writing.” Eiffel shoved his trunk under his own bed and flopped down beside Jacobi. “It’s not like he writes letters to any of the _other_ male Hufflepuff sixth-years, so clearly you’re _special._ ” In fairness, there were only the two of them in the year.

“It’s definitely about the Quidditch ban,” Jacobi said mournfully. “Or he found the remains of our weed stash in the greenhouse.”

“And so he’s taking you to _Hogsmeade_ rather than detention? Sure, seems logical.”

“It’s the most logical explanation I can come up with,” Jacobi said. “What am I supposed to write back? The bloody owl’s still waiting for a reply.” He nodded up at the high window just above ground, where Urania perched, preening her feathers.

Eiffel rolled his eyes again, not that Jacobi was actually looking, “Say _yes,_ you idiot, and stop driving us both crazy. Or you could just, you know, _ask him what he wants._ It’s not like they’ve banned asking questions.” And Hufflepuffs were _supposed_ to be the good communicators.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. God, why do we have to be wizards? This would be so much easier if I could like, stalk his Twitter or something.”

“Because Kepler’s Twitter would _totally_ contain the inner workings of his soul and not whatever he thought made him look like the best candidate for Head Boy.”

“His Tumblr, then.”

“Why would he even _have_ a Tumblr?”

“Same reason the rest of us do; started it when he was thirteen and can’t be bothered to delete it now. Ugh.” He dashed off a quick, affirmative reply, and beckoned Urania down to tie the note to her leg. “God, what a first night back. Did you miss me?” he grinned, looking slightly less manic than before.

Eiffel elbowed him with a matching grin. “ _No._ You think I don’t see enough of you when we _live together_ for nine months of the year?”

Jacobi shoved him back. “Yeah, you missed me. Who else would put up with your awful taste in music and your _knitting?_ I almost took it up myself, there’s fuck all to do at my dad’s.” He said the word ‘dad’ with a lip curl that indicated the relationship hadn’t improved over summer.

“You haven’t had to put up with the knitting yet!” Eiffel defended himself, “You might _like_ it.” His grin widened, “You know what they call leaving knitted things around in public places? _Yarn-bombing._ ”

“You had me at bombing,” Jacobi laughed. “Just don’t get me kicked off the team again.”

“Speaking of the team…” Something woolen and lumpy landed on Jacobi’s face, “I made you a little something to celebrate the end of your ban.”

Jacobi stared at the black and yellow… _things,_ as they slid off his face onto his lap. “They’re… what are they?”

Eiffel snorted, “Fingerless gloves, _idiot._ You can wear them while you play.”

Jacobi cautiously slid them on. “They’re… Well. Aren’t they something,” he said flatly, still staring.

Eiffel looked at him sidelong. “You don’t like them, do you? I can take them back -”

Jacobi moved out of his way, unable to restrain a slight smile. “Back off, they’re mine.”

“You’d better wear them at the next match, or I _will_ call you out on it from the commentator’s box,” Eiffel informed him. “Loudly and publicly.”

“Sadist,” Jacobi said, but he kept re-adjusting the gloves and smiling at them. “Oh, I got your gossip email. I can’t believe you were _right_ about Lovelace. Did you see her at the feast earlier? I almost didn’t recognise her. Scary.”

“Yeah, she’s changed a _lot_ ,” Eiffel agreed. “Bet Minkowski’s just _dying_ over in Gryffindor right now. By the way, is this going to convince you both to admit that I’m clearly a Divination _genius?_ ”

“No, because Divination is a stupid, made-up subject for gullible people, and your gossip emails are _not_ legitimate prophecies.”

“You won’t be saying that in ten years when they’re stored in the Department of Mysteries,” he replied, cheerfully. “And _gullible people_ believe in taking subjects that aren’t an easy O. How’s that working out for you, Mr. Potions and Arithmancy?”

“For Hufflepuffs,” Jacobi recited sarcastically, “ _hard workers_ were most worthy of admission…”

“And yet, what House are we both in?”

“Shut up. Wanna go down to the greenhouses before bed?”

Eiffel sat up and stretched, deliberately ruffling Jacobi’s hair in the process. “Like you had to ask.”

 

*

_daniel jacobi, age 11_

_  
_ _hufflepuff common room_

 

“And the boys’ dormitories are that way,” the prefect motioned to a corridor at the side of the common room. “Eiffel, you’ll know which one is yours, since there’s only one bed in it.”

The lone Hufflepuff first-year boy grinned. “Gotcha.”

“Girls, the corridor to your right. First-years are at the end and up the stairs. Sleep well, everybody, and do come and find one of us if you need anything. The first night can be scary, but we’re a family here, okay?”

The first-years nodded and chattered among themselves, tired from the boat ride and the feast but all excited for the year ahead. All except one. Jacobi hung back under the pretence of looking the hanging baskets of plants around the bookshelves, and tried not to think too hard about what he was going to write to his father in the morning. He was _supposed_ to be a Gryffindor, and here he was, standing in black and yellow. Even Slytherin would have been better - that was respectable, at least. Something his father would understand, even if he didn’t understand magic. But _Hufflepuff?_

“Rebecca Jacobi, right?” The kindly prefect bent down to look at him. “You doing all right, there?”

Jacobi nodded, unwilling to speak in case his voice cracked.

“Okay,” the prefect said. “Go and get some sleep. Girls to the right, remember.”

“Right,” Jacobi mumbled. And there was the other problem. He walked reluctantly to the now-empty corridor, and wondered if the girls at _this_ boarding school would call him by his real name instead of the stupid one his parents chose. As he took a step forward into the warmly-lit space, something blocked his way. A tree branch snaked out of the wooden wall, quickly followed by another, and another, growing leaves and becoming impossible to walk through. He touched a leaf in wonder.

“Uh,” he tried to get the prefect’s attention. “Excuse me? There’s a - “

At the same time, the boy from before ran down the stairs excitedly. “Uh, Jenkins, right? There’s only one empty dorm left, but there’s two beds in it. Is that right? Is there another boy coming?”

The prefect looked from Eiffel to Jacobi in confusion.

Jacobi continued to stare at the branches blocking his way to the girls dormitory. Some boys he’d sat with on the train had told him that the stairs leading to the girls dormitories in Gryffindor tower would turn smooth and impossible to climb if a boy tried to walk up there. Which meant…

“I _knew_ it,” he grinned, and turned back around to see Eiffel and the prefect watching him. A look of dawning comprehension came upon the prefect’s face, and she smiled.

“Hey, Jacobi,” she said softly. “Do you have another name you’d like us to call you by?”

His uncertain grin grew a little wider. “Daniel,” he said. He’d picked it out of a book last year, but no-one had ever called him by it yet.

“Okay, Daniel.” She straightened up, and jerked her head towards the boy’s dormitory. “Eiffel, can you show your new roommate to your dorm?”

“Sure,” Eiffel said, and ran ahead as Jacobi followed. “Your bed’s already made up. Guess the castle knew you were coming.”

The room was small, with two beds sat side-by-side. Black and yellow hangings, plants along the wall, and candles burning cheerfully in sconces. On the beds lay their new robes, already unpacked, with Hufflepuff ties neatly folded on top. There were badgers on the wallpaper. His suitcase and bag sat by the bed to the left, waiting for him.

“I always wanted Hufflepuff,” Eiffel said, jumping onto the other bed. “How about you? You looked really disappointed under the hat. Do you not like it here?”

Daniel shook his head, picking up the yellow and black tie almost reverently. “I love it,” he said.

*

_present day_

_ravenclaw tower_

 

By the time her dorm-mates entered, chattering and giggling, Hera had already pulled the hangings on her bed closed. Five years of sharing a dorm hadn’t yet convinced them that there was no reason to be scared of the ‘creepy’ part-Veela girl, and this was unlikely to change, given the Head of Ravenclaw’s total disinterest in resolving intra-House disputes. Hogwarts was ideal as an escape from her mother. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no escape from her peers.

“Hera?” a voice called out, and she cringed. “Are you in here? There’s a fifth-year looking for you.”

 _A fifth-year?_ She stuck her head out of the hangings, “Are you sure they meant me and not Rhea?” Her sister sometimes tutored the younger pupils, which their mother described as “pointless” given that it hadn’t made her Head Girl.

“She’s asking for you,” the girl said. She jerked her head behind her, and Hera saw a younger girl wave shyly from the doorway. The dark eyes and brown curls looked familiar, but…

“Hi,” Alana Maxwell said. “Do you have a minute?”

Hera stared at her, then pushed her way out of the hangings to stand up. “...Sure,” she replied, following the girl out into the stairwell.

“How are you?” Alana asked brightly, once they were alone. “Good summer?”

Hera was still staring. “It was… OK, I guess. How was yours?” _And why are you_ talking _to me?_ Nobody in Ravenclaw, barring Rhea, talked to her.

“It was OK,” Alana parroted with a wry smile. “My family kept trying to make me go to church, but I spent most of the summer hanging out with a friend from Hufflepuff. Uh, sorry, you probably want to know why I dragged you out of bed, right?” She was clearly flustered, but far more confident than Hera had ever been. “I wanted to give you something.”

Hera realised her eyes were still huge, and forced herself to blink. The fact she had to remind herself probably didn’t help with the creepy vibe. “You did?” Why couldn’t she just _talk_ to the girl like a normal person? Why couldn’t she even remember her name?

“Yeah!” Alana laughed, tucking a curl behind her ear nervously with her free hand. “Sorry, you probably think I’m such a creep, but I know you like Muggle history and Jacobi drove me to this huge bookstore in the summer and I found this…” she pulled out a book from underneath her robes. “I just - I thought you’d like it. It’s St Augustine’s _Confessions_. I marked a passage for you, uh, but you don’t have to read it. It just reminded me of you, I guess.”

Hera blushed, “That’s… really sweet of you,” she said, stumbling over the words a little. “I do like Muggle history. Thank you!” She took the book quickly for _something_ to look at that wasn’t the girl’s - Elaine? Helena? - clever brown eyes, and opened it to the first page. Inside the flyleaf, in blue ink, was written _To Hera, from Alana._ “Thank you, Alana,” she repeated.

Alana’s smile grew brighter, and she blushed a little. “It’s my pleasure. I should let you get back to bed now. You probably want to hang out with your dorm-mates on your first night back, right?”

Hera couldn’t help but give an awkward snort of a laugh. “My dorm-mates? I could do without their company.” She smiled at Alana, an expression which for once felt natural rather than  mechanical. “But… I’d love to talk to you again. About the book?” Why was talking to people so _difficult?_

“That would be lovely,” Alana said. “I don’t know much about St Augustine but I’m Muggleborn and I _do_ have to go to church whenever I’m home, so I could probably help if there are bits you don’t understand. I mean; you’re really clever, so of course you’ll understand, but…” she broke off, smiling at herself. “I’ll stop talking now.”

“I’m sure you’ll be really helpful,” Hera replied, “This… this is really lovely.” She could _feel_ the heat in her cheeks. “I’ll definitely find you to talk about this at breakfast tomorrow.” Even if she had to stay up the whole night reading. “I’m… sorry if my staring freaks you out?” It seemed like the right thing to say, after the other girl had been so _tolerant._

“Huh?” Alana fidgeted with her hair again. “I didn’t notice. I’m autistic,” she explained cheerfully, “and eye contact makes me uncomfortable. So don’t worry!”

 _Autistic?_ That was a new word. “Well, you don’t have to make eye-contact with me,” Hera replied, awkwardly hugging the book to her chest. “I’ll… let you get back to your dorm, but thank you!” She ducked back into her dorm, the book in her arms almost seeming to glow with its own kind of magic. _Alana_. She wasn’t going to forget that name again any time soon.

*

_Daniel, -_

_I was hoping you would come with me to -_

_I’d like to take you to -_

_Hogsmeade. Next weekend. Come with me? -_

_If you’re not doing anything next weekend -_

_Jacobi, -_

Kepler frowned, balled up the piece of parchment he was working on, and started again.

 _Daniel Jacobi_ _  
_ _Hufflepuff Common Room, Sixth-year dormitory_

_I have just been informed that the first Hogsmeade trip is next weekend. Would you care to accompany me? We have much to discuss._

_Warren Kepler_

“That’s clear, right?” he asked, quill between his teeth.

Rachel sighed, “I can’t believe you’re coming to _me_ for this. Yes, that’s fine, I guess. Though why you’d pick _that Hufflepuff_ over me…”

“Oh, darling,” he smirked, teasing back, “we’d kill each other.” He curled up the parchment and secured it with string. “If you’re sure. Why can’t I date a Hufflepuff?”

“You could date _a Hufflepuff,_ if you want support from the sidelines rather than the other half of a power couple. I just don’t see why you’d pick _that_ one.” She looked up from painting her nails, “He’s taken the house into negative points _every year_ without fail. Not exactly Head Boy-worthy material.”

“I’m not running for Head Boy,” Kepler reminded her. “I’ve _got_ it. I’ve got everything I worked for, and I don’t need to organise my life by what will best appease Cutter any more. So, yes, I pick _that_ one.”

She flopped back against the sofa cushions, admiring her handiwork. “Really, though? He’s so… _volatile._ ” She handled the word as if it were a dead rodent. “Both literally and metaphorically.”

“Fun, right?” _Fun_ was something he’d desperately lacked in his school years up to this point. Besides, Daniel was… well, Kepler had seen a side to him he hadn’t been expecting on that day in The Three Broomsticks. He wanted to see more.

She sniffed, “Is this about the Bludger Incident? Because if you want recklessness bordering on idiocy, I know some _lovely_ Gryffindors.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’d never stoop _that_ low. And no, it’s not about the Bludger Incident. I just find him interesting, is all.” _Interesting and gorgeous._

“If by interesting you mean ‘explosive.’ Seriously, do you _like_ having a house with a roof?” She looked at him through narrowed eyes, “Or is that all part of the charm?”

“Maybe,” he smirked.

She wrinkled her nose, “ _Gross._ And I used to think you were as smart as me…”

“Smarter,” he promised, getting up from the sofa and kissing the top of her head as he did so. “I’m going to the Owlery. Don’t wait up.”

She blew him a kiss in return. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Though I am going to be avoiding the Three Broomsticks for the forseeable future if your _date_ goes to plan.”

“Appreciate it,” he called back, already halfway out the door.


	2. autumn term (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, autumn term continues apace, while our heroes experience bad dreams, family rules, and Operation Ask-Out-The-Veela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we were Blown Away by the response to this, thanks so much! Hope you enjoy part two of Autumn, and don't forget to let us know your thoughts!
> 
> We also write the fantasy au "something enchanted, something deadly", which you should read if you're enjoying this. It's got all these pairings and more, (as well as dragons), and we're only on chapter 4 of 19 so you have plenty of time to catch up. We update Tuesdays and Fridays! http://archiveofourown.org/works/11390229/chapters/25506954

* * *

 

 

_autumn term_

_(part two)_

_gryffindor tower_

 

 _It was dark. It was always dark on the forest floor, even in daylight, and the sun had set hours ago. She pressed closer between the tree-roots, shivering and nauseous. It was too quiet. The Forest at night was never quiet. A light bobbed between the trees ahead, and she held her breath._ Go away, go away, go away, _she thought. She’d learned days (weeks? months?) ago that lights in the forest at night never meant anything good. Her legs still bore the scratches to prove it. She hoped they weren’t infected. She’d never been good at Healing, it was all she could do to keep them clean and covered. They were going numb, and she adjusted them slightly, snapping a twig from the tree as she did so. Instantly, she froze, as a skittering echoed down from the branches over her head._ Go away, go away, go away. _She held her breath._

 _She almost screamed at the sudden sensation of twig-like fingers tangling in her braids. Bowtruckles. She could snap their limbs and run away, easily, but she was rooted to the spot. A thick vine snaked its way around the tree and across her waist, squeezing tight. She struggled, and flung her head forward, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t_ breathe. _The fingers started to scratch blindly around her eyes, and she screamed -_

“Lovelace!”

Isabel woke up with a start, already sitting up. Her throat felt hoarse, and she was breathing raggedly. In front of her, Minkowski swam into view, the tip of her wand emitting a comforting light.

“Are you OK?” Now she saw she was awake, Minkowski had lowered her voice. “You were… yelling.”

“I was in the forest…” Isabel mumbled, looking around her to confirm that she really was back in the Gryffindor dormitory. Red and yellow hangings. A fireplace, still warm. Renée Minkowski’s worried face. “I’m OK,” she said abruptly, getting out of bed to pour herself a glass of water from the jug on the windowsill. “Go back to sleep.”

Minkowski didn’t move. “You’re shaking,” she said, softly. “Give that here.” She took the glass without waiting for it to be offered and cast a quiet _Aguamenti._ “Here. Less mess.”

Lovelace drained the glass. “Thank you,” she said, reluctantly. “Really, you can sleep. Sorry for waking you.”

“I’m fine. I wasn’t asleep anyway.” She still didn’t move, but sat watching her with those wide grey eyes. “You… want to talk about it?”

A laugh escaped Isabel’s sore throat: a high and bitter sound. “No. Thank you. Don’t want to give you nightmares as well.”

Minkowski shrugged. “I didn’t think you would.” She looked thoughtful. “But you don’t want to go back to sleep either.”

“I don’t sleep much nowadays.” Isabel pulled on a dressing gown. “I’m going to go sit by the fire in the common room, get some homework done. Lambert’s probably still down there working on his History of Magic essay.” She put the glass down on the bedside table. “Thanks,” she said again, a little awkwardly.

Minkowski tilted her head to one side. “It was nothing.” She waited until Isabel had left, stuck her head out into the stairwell to see if there was anyone still in the common room, and, after a few moments of silence, grabbed her own dressing gown and a couple of sachets of hot chocolate from the stash she kept in her bedside cabinet.

Lovelace was staring into the fire, her eyes glazed and distant, and she did not notice the other girl until a steaming mug of hot chocolate was pressed into her hands and the sofa moved with another person’s weight. Minkowski said nothing, but coiled her legs under herself and offered Lovelace a corner of the blanket she had bundled on her lap.

Isabel took it, and shuffled forward a little closer. “So, I was thinking of scheduling Quidditch tryouts next Friday,” she said quietly. “I want to get a head start on practice. You can make it, right?”

She didn’t look at the other girl, but she could almost hear the smile in her voice, “You’re going to make me re-try for my position? Harsh move, captain.”

“Well, I have to be fair. Besides, you might have gotten soft while I’ve been away,” Isabel teased.

Minkowski gave a quiet snort, “As if you could find a better Keeper in this House than me! Be realistic, _nobody_ in Gryffindor wants the job but me.”

“You still have to try-out,” Isabel said, amused. “I can’t be accused of favouring my friends.”

Minkowski swung her hair in front of her face, hoping she wasn’t blushing, “Am I a good enough friend to warrant favouritism, then?” They’d been teammates before, but Lovelace had had plenty of friends and little reason to pay attention to a girl a year below her.

“Yeah, course we’re friends,” Lovelace scoffed. “You made me hot chocolate, I definitely can’t afford to throw _you_ away. But you’re still trying out on Friday.”

This time the smile was impossible to hide. “Lovelace, I’ve made half the _House_ hot chocolate. I thought everyone knew about it.”

“I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention to you last year,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean - two years ago.”

She could _feel_ her cheeks burning. “It’s not - it wasn’t - you had no reason to care about it,” she finished, lamely, “It was just something I did for the homesick first-years, mostly.” And the students who panicked during exams. And a surprising number of insomniac students of varying Houses. It had become practically traditional, it was odd to realise the older Gryffindors hadn’t heard of it.

“That’s sweet of you,” Lovelace said. “What a _model_ prefect you are. Running for Head Girl?” she asked, as nonchalantly as she could manage.

Minkowski fidgeted with her hair. “Isn’t everyone?” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

“No-one who would be decent competition,” Isabel said, almost staring her down. “Apart from you, I suppose.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I think I’d be more than decent competition, _captain._ ” She’d been top of the year before. She was Gryffindor Prefect. Her OWLS were _perfect_ , and Lovelace _supposed_ she might be ‘decent competition’ for Head Girl?

Isabel blew on her hot chocolate, looking over the mug at Minkowski with a smirk. “Oh, you think so, little girl?”

A smirk like that should be a controlled substance. She raised her chin with a defiant smile of her own. “You _really_ think you can beat me? You’ve never even had to _compete_ with me before.” Whereas Minkowski had been competing with the Legend of Lovelace since her first year. This was a fight she was _prepared_ for.

“Oh, _bring it._ ” Isabel laughed, and took a slurp of hot chocolate. “Now, _that’s_ cheered me up. Good job, prefect.”

Minkowski nudged her gently with her shoulder. “Anytime, captain.”

The crackling of the flames in the fireplace had been many a Gryffindor’s lullabye, and the two girls were no exception. They woke in the early hours of the morning, and crept back up to their beds, but not before exchanging a look: _we shall never speak of this again._

 

 *

 _maxwell and jacobi_ _  
_

(aged 11 and 12)

 

Already bored ten minutes in, Daniel started scanning the pews of the church to see who else had bothered to show up on that rainy Sunday morning. The usual families - people who had known him since he was a baby, and asked his father awkward questions about his ‘military boarding school’, and still used the wrong name - plus a few new faces. The church in the village next to theirs was closed to deal with a roof leak, and a few people had made the walk over to join them. He wondered how disappointed they were with the priest’s low, droning voice, and the stuffy air.

There was a girl on a pew a few rows back who wasn’t even pretending to pay attention. She stared at the ceiling as the priest mumbled on, and every so often a woman elbowed her until she sat up straight and looked at the front. Daniel was about to look away, but something had already seemed familiar about the girl, and then he clocked the bracelet on her wrist. It was handmade from embroidery floss, the kind people used for friendship bracelets, and was ratty, like it had been chewed and fidgeted with. It was blue and bronze.

After the service was finished and the adults went into a separate room for the village meeting, Daniel hung back and found the girl hovering by the squash and biscuits table for the kids.

“Hi,” he said, waving a little awkwardly. “You’re new, right?”

She nodded, bouncing on her toes as her sharp brown eyes flicked over him and away, “My family just moved here. Said it would be more _peaceful_ for all of us.” She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? School?”

“Maybe,” Daniel said slowly. They’d all been extensively drilled in ‘never tell anyone where you go to school, just in case’, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he’d seen her before. “I go to boarding school? Up near Scotland. It’s…” Why didn’t they have code words for this kind of thing? “It’s for kids with… special skills.”

Her face lit up, and she bounced again, more excitedly. “I _do_ know you!” She looked around, lowered her voice. “You’re in Hufflepuff, right? Second year? I didn’t think there’d be _anyone_ from school in this town!” Though her voice was quieter, it was still quick, “I’m Alana Maxwell, Ravenclaw, this is my first year-”

“Calm down,” he giggled, and then remembered to lower his voice in both pitch and volume. “I’m Daniel. I think you _might_ be the only witch in the village. I’m definitely the only wizard.” He gestured to their surroundings with a slight grimace. “Are your parents trying to pray the magic out of you too?”

She bit her lip, shoving her hair back behind her ears. “You could say that. That, and the autism.” Might as well get _that_ revelation out of the way quickly, before anyone else has the chance to.

“Why? Doesn’t that mean you’re like, really smart? And a Ravenclaw. Double-smart.”

She smiled again, “Well, I don’t know if _that’s_ because I’m autistic, but they don’t like it either. Saying ‘no-one likes a know-it-all.’” She snorted, “As if I want people like _them_ to like me!”

“They sound like crap,” he sympathised. “Quick, hide with me before Mum sees me talking to a girl and gets all weepy.” He pulled up the tablecloth, and, scanning the room quickly, ducked underneath it. Alana followed, all awkward eleven-year-old knees and elbows, but there was plenty of space under the table for the two of them.

She sat with her knees pulled close to her chest, blinking at him and through him without making eye contact. “Why would she cry about you _talking_ to a girl?” she whispered, “Does she not like girls? Does she not like _herself?_ ”

Daniel shook his head. “Nah, she just wants _me_ to be a girl, and when she sees I’m friends with one she gets all hopeful that I’ll magically start wearing pink or something. Muggles,” he said, disparagingly. He missed Hogwarts _so_ much. He missed the easy camaraderie of the Hufflepuff common room, where no-one ever called him by the wrong name or got mad at him for wearing trousers. They mostly just got mad at him for accidentally setting things on fire, and that he could live with.

She wrinkled her nose again, this time screwing up her eyes in a perfect picture of preteenage disgust, before spitting the typical Ravenclaw invective. “That’s _stupid._ ” For a moment, he felt a little sick as she paused, then she wriggled and continued: “You’re not going to _stop_ being a boy just because she wants you to. Any more than you’re going to stop being a wizard, or a Hufflepuff. You’re fine as you are! Can’t she be happy with what she has?” She frowned, thoughtfully, “Then again, I’m not going to stop being autistic, or a know-it-all, and my family doesn’t like that.” She looked at him with a thoughtful smile, “We could start our own family? I’ve never had a brother, it could be fun.”

Daniel grinned. “Can the first family rule be that no-one has to go to church?”

Alana bounced, almost like she was nodding with her entire body, and hit her head on the table, “ _Ouch!_ First family rule is no one has to go to church.” She rubbed her head with one hand. “ _Second_ family rule is that no one has to hide under tables with their friends because their mum is _stupid._ Actually, can we just ban stupidity all together?”

“Deal,” Daniel agreed. “Hey, do you play Quidditch? I’m on the team this year. Beater,” he said proudly. “I can’t practice in the holidays, which sucks, but there’s a league team a few miles away who let people watch them practice sometimes. I’m going to save up for a bus ticket to go one day.”

She made a gagging face. “I can barely stay on a broom!” She paused, then added, with resignation, “But I guess, if we’re family, I’ll have to start coming to matches.”

“You gotta at least _watch_ Quidditch,” Daniel said solemnly. “I can teach you how to fly better, if you want. It sucks that you only get a few lessons in first year and then that’s it. No little sister of mine’s gonna fall off a broom, don’t worry.”

Alana frowned. She didn’t think she could take another year of flying lessons. But if he was her brother… she nodded, seriously. “But if you teach me to fly, what can I help you with? I’m only a first year, but there has to be _something_ I can do.”

“Nah, you don’t have to. That’s what family’s for.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Unless you’re good at Potions. I am _bad_ at Potions. Unless it’s a Potion which is _meant_ to explode, in which case, I am _great_ at Potions.”

Alana’s face lit up. “I am _very_ good at Potions. And explosions are the best part.”

 

 *

_the great hall_

(present day)

 

 

“Hey,” Jacobi said, scooting into an empty space on the Ravenclaw table. “How’s operation ask-out-the-veela going? Did you give her the book?”

Maxwell glanced around to check Hera wasn’t nearby, then glared at him. “Don’t _call_ her that! Yes, I gave here the book. I think she liked it, but I’m not sure…” She bounced hard enough to rock the bench, earning a glare from her housemates. “Do you think it was too forward? Maybe I creeped her out…”

He snagged a piece of toast from her plate and spread it with marmalade. “Maybe _you_ creeped _her_ out? Unlikely. We discussed this, Lana, giving her a book is the _perfect_ first move. You’re a Ravenclaw, that’s how you guys work.”

Alana wrinkled her nose, an expression which had changed very little from the day they’d met. “So what, I’m supposed to sidle up to her and say ‘Hey babe, want to start a library with me?’ Who does that?!”

“Yeah,” he said with his mouth full, then swallowed. “I think that would work.”

She elbowed him, “ _Daniel!_ I feel like you’re not taking this very seriously!”

“Yes I am!” he protested. “Who drove you to that stupid bookshop that was miles away and waited for _three hours_ for you to pick something out, huh?”

She folded her arms with a pout. “You could have come in, you know. It’s not like Hufflepuffs are banned from reading for fun.”

“Lucky for you there was a record store opposite, or I’d have left you there. So, are you going to ask her out now? There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up,” he said, as nonchalantly as he dared, before remembering it hadn’t gone up on the noticeboards yet. “I mean, I think there is.”

She collapsed onto the table. “ _Don’t,_ it was hard enough talking to her the first time.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “How do _you_ know when the next Hogsmeade weekend is? Are you going with someone?” A grin began to creep across her face, “Do you have a _date?_ Is that why you’re so eager to make sure I’m going with Hera?”

Daniel felt his cheeks begin to burn. “Shut up, no, I’m just being _supportive,_ I’m a _Hufflepuff_ -”

Alana began to giggle, “You _do_ have a date!” She started chanting in a sing-song voice: “Daniel’s got a da-ate!”

“ _Shut up_ !” he hissed, glancing across at the Slytherin table in fear. Luckily, Kepler didn’t seem to be there. “I don’t _know_ if it’s a date yet. Someone just asked me to meet them there, it could be about anything.”

Her eyes widened as she looked between him and the direction of his gaze. “ _Really?_ He asked?” Now her grin widened too. “I _totally_ won the betting pool on that! I _said_ he was just waiting to get Head Boy first! Eiffel’s gonna be _so mad-_ ”

He tried to hush her desperately as she began to cackle. “I never said it was Kepler!”

“You didn’t need to!” she trilled, ruffling his hair as she got to her feet. “ _I’m_ going to collect my winnings. Your dorm-mate isn’t going to know what’s hit him.” Especially when she used the money to take one of Eiffel’s best friends out to Hogsmeade. This was going to be _fun._

“He already knows!” he called after her, and gave up. He nodded to the other Ravenclaws before getting up from the bench, and standing up just in time to collide with -

“Jacobi,” Kepler’s deep voice sounded amused. “Just who I was looking for.”

 _That’s why he wasn’t at the breakfast table._ Jacobi’s cheeks got even redder.

“Hi,” he stuttered. “Looking for me?”

Kepler had put a hand on his upper arm to steady him. “Just checking you were still OK to meet me in Hogsmeade.” Was he imagining it, or did Kepler sound… _nervous?_

“Of course,” Jacobi said, blinking. “You - you got my owl, right?”

“Oh - yes.” Kepler stepped back so he could actually _look_ at him. “I was just making sure. We’re both busy people, after all.”

“Yeah - oh, congratulations, by the way. Head Boy _and_ Quidditch Captain? Nicely done. Wouldn’t have thought you’d have time for anything else,” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he stood.

Kepler smiled, “I _always_ have time for you.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away just as the scuffle to get to the day’s first classes began. Jacobi stayed frozen in place for a moment, still blushing. Somewhere in the distance, he was _sure_ he could hear Maxwell cackling.

“I still don’t know if it’s a date,” he said dazedly, to no-one in particular.

 

 *

_quidditch commentator’s box_

 

“So she gave you the book and ran away?” Eiffel was sweeping leaves and litter from the previous year into piles for Hera to Vanish. “Isn’t that the height of romance for your House? When do I get to meet her? Should I be planning your wedding already?”

“Ha _hah_ ,” Hera said, unamused. “She was just… being a good Ravenclaw? It’s not like lending books in the Common Room is rare. We practically have our own library.”

Eiffel snorted, “Lending books isn’t the same as _giving_ them, you already know that. And anyway, you’re a Ravenclaw and you haven’t given me _any_ books over the course of our friendship. Should I feel slighted?”

Hera chuckled, and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “It’s hard enough to get you to read books for class, let alone for fun.”

“Yes, but if you were a _good Ravenclaw…_ ” He jumped back out of elbowing range, nearly tripping over a pile of rubbish as he did so. “Seriously, Hera, she _gives_ you a book with underlined excerpts and you assume she’s just being a good member of your House? Your House _barely_ cares about being nice to each other on a good day, look at your Head!” Professor Hilbert’s misanthropy was _notorious._ “What did you say her name was again?”

“Alana Maxwell,” Hera replied. “And it’s not like she underlined anything _romantic…”_ It was a passage about memory. Fascinating, but not exactly sentimental. “Stop it, Eiffel. There’s no way she likes _me_.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious? Plenty of people like you, Hera.” He looked thoughtful. “Alana Maxwell… That fifth year Jacobi adopted?” He narrowed his eyes with a grin, “Do you want me to ask him to ask her out for you? It wouldn’t be the first time.” Now was _not_ the time to mention that he’d come out here to _hide_ from Hera’s new love interest. She’d been after him since breakfast for her winnings.

“No!” Hera’s eyes widened in genuine fear. “Don’t even _joke_ about that.”

“Come on, Hera, what’s the worst she can do? Say no?”

It could be a trick. A prank. She imagined everyone in Ravenclaw Tower - everyone in the _school_ \- laughing and pointing. She shivered. “Look, it’s just nice to have a friend in my House. If she wants to be my friend.” Few people did. Rhea, who’d never seemed to struggle with the social anxiety disorder that made Hera’s ethereal appearance “creepy” to others, never had this problem.

Eiffel put a hand on her shoulder. “Of course she wants to be your friend. I’m surprised it’s taken this long for _someone_ in your House of idiots to work out that you’re a pretty great friend. But I also think that given the evidence,” he gestured to the book, “she might want a different sort of relationship too.”

“I’ve never dated _anyone_ …” she found a little, mischievous smile appear on her face, “and frankly, after watching you and Jacobi fight for a year before you _finally_ broke up, I’m not sure I want to.”

Eiffel made a face. “Low blow, Hera. Besides, _nobody’s_ ever dated anyone until they start. You’re _sixteen,_ that’s a little premature for abandoning the whole idea of relationships. Plus, if you and Maxwell break up, you won’t have to share a _room_ with your ex.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still best friends. But I suppose you have a point… not that I’m asking her out. Ever.” Hera paused for a moment as she cleared away another pile of rubbish. “Merlin, what do you do to this place? If my mother saw, she’d have a fit. Oh!” She turned back to Eiffel, smiling. “Did I tell you? I’m allowed to bring guests to the Christmas Ball this year.”

“The Evil Queen’s finally admitted you’re all grown up and allowed to attend parties? Wonders will never cease!” He grinned. “So, are you going to invite the Maxwell girl?”

“I’m going to invite you and Minkowski, unless you keep _teasing_ me.”

Eiffel put a hand to his forehead, “Oh no, you might uninvite me from the Pryce and Carter Yule Ball, the _highlight_ of the season! However will I find myself a suitable spouse if I do not attend?” He dropped his feigned swoon when she started to smile. “Besides, if you uninvite me, who’ll keep Minkowski in line?”

“Oh, right, _she’s_ the troublemaker.” Hera paused thoughtfully. “Do you think she’s getting on alright with Lovelace?”

Eiffel shrugged. “I haven’t heard any explosions from the Gryffindor Tower yet, so I’m assuming they’ve both survived their first night in the same dorm. Shame she insists she’s over that crush she used to have on Lovelace, though, this would be _perfect_ for matchmaking…”

“Eiffel,” she warned, pointing a finger. “This had better not become a _thing_. Stick to knitting.”

He rolled his eyes. “Killjoy. What’s the harm in a little matchmaking? It’ll liven up sixth year, if nothing else. Nothing _ever_ happens in sixth year.”

“Good. I could do with a quiet year.” She flicked the last pile of leaves away, and rubbed her hands together. “Come on now, I’m freezing. Let’s go to dinner?”

He gave her a one-armed hug as they left the box. “You read my mind. Back to the castle it is, but don’t think I’ve forgotten about your not-date.”

“Don’t make me Obliviate you,” she threatened playfully, and they walked back up to the castle laughing together.


	3. interlude: hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Hogsmeade weekend of Autumn, and the tiniest, softest "Things That Break Other Things" you could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ada/mothwrites bringing you chapter three. Thanks for your continued support/feedback, dear readers! Up this week, we have a little Hogsmeade weekend before the winter term chapters, (or if you're my co-author, before "autumn term, part three"). Community poll time, dear readers - if you leave a comment, do us a favour and tell us if your high school had a 'winter' term or not?

 

 _interlude:_ hogsmeade weekend

_daniel jacobi, age 16_

 

Daniel slammed an empty bottle on the bar table. “Another.”

The barkeep eyed him suspiciously; the burn marks on his face and his heavy eyelids painting a suspicious picture. “Don’t you think you should be heading back to school?”

“ _Another._ ”

He heard a scrape as someone dragged the stool next to him back and sat down. “That’s the spirit. Don’t let that wuss tell you you can’t hold your Butterbeer.”

It took him a moment to realise the voice was addressing him before he looked up. The speaker was a Slytherin he didn’t immediately recognise - probably a sixth- or seventh-year. He wore his shirt opened casually at the collar with a green and silver tie hanging loose. Tall, dark, and effortlessly handsome. His eyes were brown - almost black - and bore into him like he was the most interesting thing the stranger had ever seen. Another bottle slid onto the counter.

“Let me get that for you,” the stranger said.

Jacobi became aware that he was staring, and looked away, irritation prickling under his skin. He didn’t need pity from a Slytherin. “I can buy my own drinks.”

He smiled an _annoyingly_ perfect smile, perfect white teeth standing out against his dark skin. “That’s fine. Next time, you can buy.” He seemed to be waiting for Jacobi to speak, and when he didn’t, continued: “So, you going to introduce yourself, or glare at the bottle until it explodes?”

“Oh, _very_ funny.” He pulled out the chair as if to leave, but thought twice as the stranger held out a pacifying hand.

“I wasn’t actually making fun of you. Sit down and finish your drink. I’m Warren Kepler, Slytherin, sixth-year.” He paused again, then rolled his eyes at Jacobi’s continuing silence. “Am I going to have to hold up your end of the conversation as well as my own?”

Oh, _Merlin,_ he recognised him now through the haze of exhaustion. “You’re the Slytherin prefect,” Jacobi said slowly.

The smile returned, and widened, “Got it in one. And _you’re_ the Hufflepuff nobody can stop talking about.”

“And here I was hoping that story would have died down before I dragged myself back to school,” Jacobi said wryly. The match had finished hours ago, but he couldn’t face his house yet, and certainly no-one had come to find him.

“I’m afraid you’re going to make the next edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ with that one, friend,” he replied, his tone teasing in a way which somehow managed to avoid being irritating. “The Gryffindor team is out for your blood, and I think the Hufflepuff prefects were trying to argue that you should be transferred to another House. Not that they’ll succeed, but _Slytherin_ would appreciate someone who knows their way around explosives.”

Jacobi laughed, for the first time since that morning. As if his reputation couldn’t get any worse. “So, have you come to protect me, or throw me to the wolves? Or is this an official prefect visit? Haven’t I been punished enough?” Banned for a whole term, and then straight after that a summer in his stupid muggle village without a broom in sight.

“None of the above. I actually came to congratulate you. That was some impressive Charms work on that Bludger, has anyone told you that? None of the professors noticed you’d rigged it, let alone the other pupils.” Jacobi would have assumed he was being set up for a fall, but the other boy seemed genuine in his interest. “Where did you learn to do something like that?”

Jacobi blinked at him, taken aback. “I’ve… always had a talent for breaking things?” He took a long drink of butterbeer, and continued. “Though not as talented as I thought. They weren’t supposed to go off like that. No-one was supposed to get _hurt._ Not really.”

“Of course not,” Kepler agreed, sympathetically, “though you couldn’t’ve picked a better bunch. The Gryffindor team has been way too confident for people who’ve lost their best chaser. It was almost funny to see them get knocked off their high horses.”

“... It might have been a _little_ funny,” Jacobi agreed carefully, a smirk playing on his lips despite the hours he’d spent wallowing in self-pity. “But most of the school doesn’t see it that way.”

“Most of the school are idiots. That Minkowski girl is up in arms about the whole thing, of course, but she’s never seen _anything_ without overreacting to it, just like the rest of her House. Your own lot aren’t particularly pleased with you, sure, but the Ravenclaws care less about what you did than how you did it and the Slytherins want to know how much they can pay you to do it again.” He held up his hands at the accusatory stare. “No, I am _not_ here to bribe you to sabotage any more matches. I just came to tell you things aren’t as bad up there as you think.” He nodded in the direction of the school.

“You’d be surprised how fierce badgers can be,” Jacobi said sulkily. Hopefully Eiffel would be speaking up for him, but he couldn’t be sure Minkowski and Hera hadn’t gotten to him first. “Uh, but I appreciate it. Can’t be all bad if it means someone like you actually knows my name, right?” His ears went a little red as he realised how that had sounded. “I mean - “

Kepler was smiling. “I know what you mean, Jacobi. One more drink before we head back to the castle?”

“Why not,” Jacobi said, returning the smile. Suddenly, walking back to the castle didn’t seem so bad, not if he would be walking by Kepler’s side.

 

*

_present day_

 

The first Hogsmeade weekend was Hera’s favourite moment in autumn after getting back to Hogwarts. It wasn’t cold enough yet to require scarves and cloaks and gloves, but the air smelled like woodsmoke and oncoming frost, and the trees glowed orange and gold. It was also exciting enough for students cooped up in the castle that for once, she didn’t feel anyone was staring at her. She was so distracted by taking in the changes the summer had wrought in the familiar village that she almost tripped over Alana as she entered the bookshop.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” she gasped, stepping back. But the other girl was smiling.

“It’s nothing, it was my fault.” She stepped aside and let Hera enter. “Were you looking for something new to read?”

“Just browsing,” Hera managed to say, still surprised and nervous. “Hello.”

“Oh, I always forget that part. Hello to you too! Enjoying being out of the castle?” For all that she sounded as though she’d rehearsed the questions beforehand, there was genuine interest in her tone.

“Y-yes,” Hera said. She took a subtle deep breath and steeled herself, reminding herself that she _liked_ talking to Alana and it wasn’t cause for alarm. “I always enjoy the first Hogsmeade weekend, don’t, don’t you?” _Damn_. Her stutter was coming back. All those elocution lessons her mother forced her to go to...

“I love it! It means I’m finally back in the wizarding world. It feels like I could do _anything._ ” She almost swung out her arms as if to embrace the whole village, then restrained herself before she could hit the bookshelves. She blinked, paused, then: “I’m sorry, am I bothering you? I can leave if you’d rather browse in peace.”

“No!” Hera said, too quickly. “I mean, no, it’s fine. I’d like some company, if you’re not with anyone.”

Alana’s smile widened. “I’m all by myself too today.” Thank Merlin for Jacobi’s ‘not-date’. It had given her time to work out where she was most likely to find Hera. “We could get a drink at the Three Broomsticks afterwards, if you like?”

 _Say yes_ , Hera willed herself. _It’s not hard. Just say yes…_ She panicked. “I don’t know,” she said, and could have kicked herself.

Alana looked downcast. “I mean, it’s fine if you’re busy. I understand. I just wanted to know if you’d enjoyed the book?”

 _Deep breaths. Concentrate on your syllables._ “I thought it was fascinating,” she replied. “The passage you marked out… ‘I will soar, then…’, that was beautiful.”

The other girl blushed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Maybe you could recommend me a book next time?”

“Maybe I could find one for you in here,” Hera said, regaining some confidence. “Before… before we get that drink?”

Alana’s smile was almost blinding. “That sounds wonderful!” She looped her arm through Hera’s as they began to investigate the bookshelves. The shop was well-stocked enough that Alana could keep up a string of chatter that barely required Hera’s participation, but she found she didn’t mind. It managed to be both soothing and cheering at the same time, and pressed few demands that troubled her anxiety. By the time they left, Hera had almost forgotten there was anything to be anxious about.

Then they ran into Eiffel outside the Three Broomsticks. He opened his mouth as if to make a teasing comment, then met Alana’s eyes and vanished into the pub.

Hera looked between her friend and the door. “What was that?”

Alana’s eyes were narrowed, and she was still looking in the direction Eiffel had fled. “ _Someone_ doesn’t want to pay up on his gambling debts.” She turned back to Hera with a smile. “Don’t worry, he can wait. Let’s get that drink I promised you.”

 

*

 

For once, Lovelace was the first of her friends to claim their usual table in the Three Broomsticks, in no small part due to her companion’s obsession with timekeeping. Minkowski leaned her head back against the back of her chair and let out a deep breath.

“OK, we’re on time,” she said, more to herself than to Isabel. “Nothing to stress about here.” Being ‘properly introduced’ to the Lovelace Administration should _not_ be causing her this much anxiety.

Lovelace rolled her eyes, “I _told_ you you were fussing about no- Hey!” A black-and-yellow blur had barreled into their booth, climbed over Minkowski’s lap, and was now hiding ineffectively under the table.

“ _Hide me!_ ” Eiffel hissed. Lovelace and Minkowski exchanged equally baffled glances. “I’ll explain later, but can one of you ladies give me a Disillusionment Charm _right now?”_

Minkowski obliged, still blinking. “What the _hell,_ Eiffel?”

“You _really_ don’t want to know.”

“Sorry about him,” Minkowski muttered to her companion. “Eiffel? Get out of here.”

“ _One minute._ ” He stopped, and held his breath as Hera passed their table, arm-in-arm with another Ravenclaw girl. “OK, I think the coast is clear now. Thanks, guys.”

He crawled out from under the table, dusted off his translucent form, and edged out of their line of sight. There was a sudden clamour from the other end of the bar, but their table was quiet again.

“I’d forgotten how odd he was,” Lovelace commented, staring after him.

“It’s probably about one of his stupid betting pools.” Minkowski rolled her eyes. “If it might happen, he’ll have taken a bet on it. Part of his claim to being a ‘Divination genius.’”

“Who’s a Divination genius?” Fourier, accompanied by Hui, set her shopping bags under the table and they slid into their seats.

“More importantly, who’s Lovelace’s _guest?_ You didn’t tell us you were bringing someone!” His tone was teasing, but Minkowski could feel her cheeks beginning to heat up.

Lovelace rolled her eyes. “Fourier, Hui, this is Renée Minkowski. Gryffindor sixth-year, probable Keeper, and my dorm-mate.”

“Oh, so you’ve gotten attached to one of the ‘children’,” Hui joked, but Fourier raised one eyebrow at him.

“Leave her be, Kuan. You haven’t even introduced yourself properly. Renée, I’m Victoire Fourier. Seventh-year Ravenclaw, no Quidditch team position, though you could call me a Keeper for this idiot.” She elbowed Hui. “ _That’s_ how you give a polite introduction.”

Fisher appeared round the corner. “The _Ravenclaws_ are giving lessons on manners now? Have you all been Confunded?” He looked at the group properly. “What are Lambert and Rhea up to? They’re usually the first to arrive. I see we have a new face, though. Minkowski, right?” They’d been facing each other on the Quidditch field for years, but it was nice to be recognised.

Minkowski nodded. “Yep. Gryffindor, sixth-year, and _definite_ Keeper, thanks, Lovelace. Who would you even replace me with? Are you going to start shipping in players from other Houses?”

Fourier looked thoughtful, “I wonder if there’s anything in the rules that would stop her doing that. Not that I’m trying to give you ideas,” she quickly added, looking between a smirking Lovelace and an irritated Minkowski.

“Impress me in the tryouts and you won’t need to worry,” Lovelace said. “You’ve got a point though, Fisher, where _are_ those two?”

A breeze blew through as the door slammed open once more and Rhea sailed serenely in and claimed her usual seat. Lambert followed close after her.

“Here at last. Did you miss me?” she smiled, then said, “Oh, hi Sam,” as he sat down beside her. “So, now that we’re all together, what’ve we missed, Lovelace? New friend?”

“Renée Minkowski. How did you two not see each other as you walked in?” Lovelace asked, eyes narrowed.

Lambert looked uncomfortable, but Rhea only shrugged. “Wasn’t paying attention, I guess. You waited for us before ordering drinks? That’s so sweet!”

“Hmm,” Lovelace hummed. “Oh, well. Minkowski, this is Pryce and Lambert. You know _him_ , of course.”

She nodded. “We run into each other at prefects’ meetings all the time. And I know your sister,” she added to Rhea.

Rhea’s eyes brightened. “Oh, so you’re _that_ Minkowski. Thanks for keeping an eye out for her. I know she hasn’t had the easiest time.” She turned back to the rest of the group. “Butterbeers all round, everyone? It’s too early in the afternoon for anything heavier.”

Lovelace didn’t miss the grateful look Lambert shot in her direction. “Sure,” she said slowly. “And Minkowski isn’t _keeping an eye_ on me. I can keep an eye on myself. Not like I need to, with Lambert watching me like a hawk whenever I walk to class, in case I take a wrong turn and get lost again,” she joked, smiling to let him know she wasn’t annoyed. It was sweet, really.

“I’m not watching you!” he said, a little defensively, “I’m just not used to having you out of my sight all day. It’s stressful. You could be doing _anything._ ”

Minkowski smiled, “She does that to you too?”

“Oh, this was a _terrible_ idea,” Lovelace muttered. “I’ll get the drinks,” she said more loudly, and got up, clambering out of the booth. “Hui, come help me carry.”

Minkowski found herself facing four sets of inquisitive eyes boring into her from the moment Lovelace turned her back.

“So,” said Rhea, at last, “how has she _really_ been?”

“I…” She looked wildly around, in case Lovelace was still in earshot. “I’m not sure I should -”

“Come on, Minkowski,” Fisher said kindly. “The Captain puts on a hell of a brave face, but a year of what she went through has got to do something to a person. She won’t talk to us, and we’re _worried._ We’re her best friends.”

Minkowski bit her lip. “She’s… doing as well as we could expect her to be, I think. She’s angry about having to repeat a year, and she hasn’t really bonded with anyone in our year group, but she’s… trying?” _Trying my patience, anyway._ That was unfair, but the nightmares hadn’t stopped, and had only increased Lovelace’s irritability in daylight hours, _particularly_ towards Minkowski. She suspected the Hogsmeade invite was an attempt at an olive branch from someone who was terrible at apologising.

Victoire sighed. “If she’d just _talk_ to someone about what she went through… Honestly, the communication between you lot is _deplorable._ Fisher excepted,” she amended. “Mace keeps us sane.”

Minkowski folded her arms, uncomfortable with being grilled for information she was certain Lovelace wouldn’t want her sharing. “I’m certain he does. I know my non-Gryffindor friends do that for me.” She paused, “I know you’re worried about Lovelace - I would be too - but I don’t think she’s ever taken kindly to being asked to talk about her feelings, and I doubt she’s going to start now, especially to me. She barely knows me.”

“Nah, she likes you,” Fisher said confidently. “Don’t worry about that, young one.”

“It takes a while to figure out how she shows affection,” Lambert said, a little begrudgingly. “A _long_ while.”

“Well, I’m sure if she wants to talk about it, she’ll come and talk to one of you,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “I wish I could be more help to you and to her.” Hot chocolate after a nightmare was the least she could do.

“Well, I’m sure that - _quidditch,_ ” Lambert said loudly, as Lovelace and Hui returned with drinks. “Uh. How is that going? The quidditch? With the new season, and the, uh, brooms…”

Hui rolled his eyes as he set the tray of drinks down on the table. “ _Convincing,_ Lambert,” he muttered under his breath.

But Minkowski took the bait: “Yes, I was _sure_ I was going to get Quidditch Captain, but the Captain just _had_ to come show me up.” She nodded in Lovelace’s direction with a smile. “Still, I guess there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition, right?”

“Oh yes, has she told you?” Lovelace’s eyes glittered. “Minkowski has designs on my Head Girl badge.”

Rhea snorted. “Since when was it _your_ Head Girl badge? We all thought it would be me this year.”

“Yes, and you were robbed, but they can’t keep favouring Slytherins forever.”

Hui raised his eyebrows. “You think? Cutter’s a shining example of House pride, and given that he’s Headmaster…”

“Maybe he’ll stop caring once his two pet projects graduate,” Victoire mused. “I can’t stand those two.”

“Can anyone?” Rhea folded her arms. “I swear they got Head Boy and Girl because Cutter wants to set up a Slytherin breeding programme.”

“Ew,” Lambert and Lovelace said simultaneously. As the conversation continued, Lovelace reached across the table, picked up a glass of Butterbeer, and handed it to Minkowski. “Here,” she said quietly. “My treat. After all that hot chocolate.”

Minkowski took a long sip and hoped the glass would cover her blushing. “It’s really nothing. I can’t do much, but I can make a _great_ hot chocolate.”

“A much sought-after quality in a Keeper,” Lovelace joked, and then smiled. With a finger, she gently wiped a speck of foam off Minkowski’s upper lip, and then rejoined the conversation as if nothing had happened.

 

*

 

“Sorry about him,” Jacobi sighed, watching Eiffel scamper off in the opposite direction. “He’s harmless, really. He only _looks_ insane.”

“And you have to share a dorm with him?” Kepler looked faintly horrified at the thought.

“He’s not so bad.” Jacobi smiled, almost fondly, thinking of their first year at Hogwarts together. And then a few, more turbulent years after that. “Sharing a dorm is the easy part, because we’re the only two male Hufflepuffs in the year. Made some things _very_ convenient,” he joked, and took a sip of his drink. “The hard part is getting him to stop favouring other teams in Quidditch.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed his… affection for the Gryffindor team.” Where affection stood for blatant favouritism which only passed without comment because it was a symbol of inter-House unity. “So, the two of you…?”

Jacobi blinked. “The two of us what?”

“Were you seeing each other?” _Are you_ still _seeing each other?_

“Oh!” Jacobi laughed into his drink, and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh God, I thought you knew. Nah, it’s ancient history. We weren’t _seeing each other_ ,” he said with air-quotes, “not really, but you put two teenage boys alone in a room together, and…” he smiled, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as he felt. “Well, you know. We sort of accidentally dated for like, a year? And then we realised it was the worst idea anyone’s ever had and called it quits.” Eiffel had been the cause of most of his common-room explosions, and not in a good way. They were much better at being best friends than boyfriends.

Given the number of Slytherin boys in his year, privacy at school had been non-existent for Kepler until he’d become Head Boy, but he nodded. “Is there anyone else now?” Rachel had assured him there wasn’t, but it didn’t hurt to check.

Jacobi shrugged. “I think Eiffel liked Hera - you know, Rhea Pryce’s little sister - for a little while, but she turned out to be gay, so now they’re just really good friends. And you meant me,” he realised, and laughed again. “No. Of course not.”

“Really?” That made _no_ sense.

“Really,” Jacobi confirmed, and took a long drink of Butterbeer. “Uh, what about you? I guess Cutter’s plan to create a Slytherin dynasty didn’t exactly work out with you and Young.”

Kepler laughed. “Cutter needs to learn that his powers as Headmaster don’t extend to arranging our marriages. Rachel’s delightful, but she’s not exactly my type and I’m _certainly_ not hers.”

“Ah, I see. You two kinda grew up together, right?” Jacobi asked. “Society parties, and all that.”

He nodded. “The two of us, Rhea Pryce and her sister, that Minkowski girl occasionally. Wizarding Britain’s too small for us not to know each other. What about you? I mean, obviously you’re...”

“Muggleborn?” Jacobi asked, raising an eyebrow. “You can say it out loud, you know. I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Of course not.” He hoped he didn’t sound like someone who’d grown up with less polite variants of the term. “Not that there’s anything to be ashamed of in that.”

“Smooth,” Jacobi said, amused. “Uh, not much to tell, really. I’m from a tiny Muggle village, my Dad’s a… Uh, do you know what the RAF is?”

Kepler looked blank. “The what now?”

Jacobi laughed, thinking that Kepler looked oddly adorable on the extremely rare occasion when he was confused. “The Royal Air Force. Okay, okay, so - planes? Big metal things that Muggles fly in? They use them in the military, and my dad works at an RAF base. Used to be a pilot, now he just works in admin. Sometimes I think the real reason he hates me is that I can fly a broom and he can’t,” he joked, remembering the one time he’d caught his father staring enviously at the broomstick in his room, trying to figure out how it worked.

Kepler’s face retained its confusion but now there was an edge of disgust. “No offence, but your father clearly has _no_ appreciation for your gifts.”

Jacobi shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. “He can sort of deal with the magic now; we don’t fight about it any more, at least. Too busy fighting about church. But there’s a witch in my village - Maxwell, she’s a fifth year - who kind of adopted me, so holidays are much more bearable now. Uh, sorry,” he said, going a little pink as he realised how long he’d been talking about himself. “Wasn’t trying to give you my tragic life story in one go.”

“Nothing you need to apologise for.” Kepler waved the bartender over. “Let me get the next round of drinks? Tell me about your friend.”

“Thanks,” Jacobi smiled. “Maxwell? She’s the best. Don’t tell her I said that. It’s just - when I say I live in a tiny village, I mean _tiny,_ like three-charity-shops-and-a-pub-tiny. So finding another witch would have been good enough, but finding another queer kid too? Practically saved my life that first summer. Her parents make her go to church too - I don’t have to explain church, right? - and she was the only person there to call me by my real name for _years_ while everyone else was still saying ‘her’ and ‘she’ _._ ” He paused for a moment, lost in fond thought.

Kepler blinked, realised he was staring, looked away. What was the right thing to say in this situation? “You’ll have to introduce us,” he said at last, “That kind of family is important."

“She’s like my little sister,” Jacobi agreed. “And a total _brat,_ which is why you can’t meet her. Possibly ever.”

“Sisters always are.” Between his own siblings and Rachel, he knew enough about sisters to agree. “But I’d like to get to know her, eventually.” _If only to find out more about you._

Jacobi thought he might agree to anything if Kepler said it in that tone. “I’m sure she’ll make herself known. She’s on a date herself today, actually - I mean -“ his eyes widened, and he looked away hastily. “Not that this is a _date,_ sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

 _Dammit._ “Well, if it keeps her out of our hair for now…” There had to be a way to salvage this. “We could take a walk. It’s getting pretty crowded in here.”

Jacobi cursed, silently, realising he’d made the other boy uncomfortable. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I’ll make sure to keep Eiffel away from you,” he joked. “He’s probably off trying to bug Maxwell and Hera anyway.”

“Is he this invested in most people’s relationships?” Kepler joked.

“Oh, absolutely. I think I need to set him up with someone myself, to distract him, but who would take on _that_ project?” He climbed off the bar stool and grabbed his coat, winding his Hufflepuff scarf around his neck as he did so. “A walk sounds great,” he said lamely. “Lead the way.”

  



	4. autumn term (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things considered, this was not how they’d planned to spend Hallowe’en.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note; this chapter involves descriptions of a character suffering from PTSD, and there's a giant spider.

_ autumn term _

_ (part three) _

 

All things considered, this was  _ not  _ how they’d planned to spend Hallowe’en. It was meant to be a small party, just a few of the older students sneaking out after lights out for a quiet drink and some inter-House gossip. Under Cutter’s terrifying gaze, it no longer felt worth it to any of them. Eiffel and Jacobi sat side by side, heads hanging. The two Ravenclaw girls looked terrified, holding hands so tightly their knuckles were white. Only Lovelace seemed unshaken, at least until the headmaster  _ smiled. _

“So.” He looked at the five students sitting in front of him. “What a wonderful display of inter-House unity we have here. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw… no Slytherin representatives, I’m happy to see. No member of my own House would be that  _ stupid. _ So, which of you little party animals should I start with?” His eyes shifted to the end of the row. “Miss Maxwell, anything to say for yourself? You’ve been such a  _ good  _ student up until this point. What a shame to blot such a perfect record.”

“I told her to come,” Jacobi said, speaking up immediately before Maxwell had the chance. “She didn’t even  _ want  _ to, it’s not her fault.”

Cutter’s eyes narrowed, though his smile didn’t slip. “I don’t believe I’ve addressed you yet,  _ Mr  _ Jacobi. Miss Maxwell? Miss Pryce? Any defence for why such  _ good _ little Ravenclaws would be out of bed so late?”

The girls shook their heads. “No, Mr Cutter,” Hera said, quietly. Her voice sounded strangled.  _ Please don’t let him mention a letter to Mother. _

He seemed almost disappointed that they didn’t answer back. His eyes shifted to the Hufflepuffs at the other end. “You two, I’m less surprised by. Tell me, is there  _ anything  _ you’re not planning to add to your records? Jacobi, that question  _ was  _ addressed to you, in case you were wondering.”

Jacobi swallowed, feeling panic wash over him. How many strikes on his record would amount to an expellable offence? Then he looked at Maxwell’s terrified face and inwardly sighed, resigning himself in a heartbeat. Anything for his little sister. “You’re right, sir. It was all  _ my  _ idea.”

Cutter’s smile widened. “Oh, come now, you can’t take  _ all  _ the credit for this shambles. Your usual partner in crime is here, of course.” His eyes shifted to the uncharacteristically silent Eiffel, then to the figure in the centre of the row. “And I see you’ve united with another troublemaker at last.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on steepled hands. “Isabel, Isabel, Isabel. Wasn’t repeating a year dramatic enough for you? Did you need to garner  _ more  _ attention from your fellow students? Bad enough to be caught out of bed after lights out, but carrying  _ Firewhiskey  _ intended for younger students? What kind of an example does that set?”

“The girls didn’t have any,” Lovelace said shortly. The Hufflepuffs, she reasoned, could fend for themselves, and she was at least of age. Hera’s mother was the bigger threat than anything else the rest of them would be punished with. “Sir.”

“How _noble_ of you to try and defend them, but no. None of you are slipping out of this one, I’m afraid.” He waved her off as she and Jacobi opened their mouths to protest. “No, letters will _not_ be going to anyone’s parents, given that two of you are Muggleborn as it is, and the parenting you’ve all received is _clearly_ lacking in discipline.” His grin was a horrifying Cheshire Cat smile. “I have a far more _entertaining_ prospect in mind. Tell me, do any of you remember the last students to receive a detention in the Forbidden Forest?”

For the first time since they’d all arrived in the Headmaster’s office, Lovelace looked visibly scared. Eiffel’s eyes went from Cutter, to her, to Cutter again. “You can’t do that,” he said weakly. “No-one’s done that in…  _ years. _ Decades.”

“True, Mr Eiffel, but irrelevant. The governors, including Lady Miranda,” He looked at Hera, “have never previously objected to this admittedly antiquated punishment, and I think leading younger students astray is excellent grounds for reinstating it. Besides, the Acromantula population is frankly getting out of control.”

Jacobi watched Maxwell inhale sharply. “Can’t you give the fifth-year lines or something?” he asked, sounding a little desperate. “She’s just a kid! I’ll do hers, I’ll go in twice- ”

Cutter looked delighted as he cut him off. “Very heroic, Mr Jacobi, but I think you misunderstand how a _punishment_ works. If Miss Maxwell is old enough to sneak around the castle to drink with older students, she’s old enough to face the consequences just like everyone else. Besides, I’m not going to send you in _unsupervised._ This is a school, after all.”

Eiffel spoke up as Jacobi silently fumed. “Who’s coming with us?”

Cutter looked along the line of students in front of him, running the names of the prefects through his head. To make this a  _ proper  _ comedown for Miss Lovelace, there was only really one option. And if he could also use this as an opportunity to redirect his protegé away from inappropriate connections… “Miss Minkowski, the Gryffindor prefect, has previously demonstrated an ability to keep you at least in line, Mr Eiffel. And I think the Head Boy will accompany her. Hopefully together they’ll set an example that  _ some  _ of you will follow.”

Jacobi groaned aloud, no longer worried about decorum. “Kepler?”  _ Great. Just perfect. _

“I see you’re already acquainted. Good. Get to bed. This time tomorrow night, you’ll be wishing you were safely there.”

They filed down the staircase, not speaking until the door at the base had shut behind them. Hera and Alana still held each other’s hands tightly, but Alana had also grabbed Jacobi’s. She and Lovelace were both pale, and the latter looked like she was almost shaking. 

“I’m sorry, ‘Lana,” Jacobi murmured as they walked. “I tried.”

She bumped her head against his shoulder, gently. “I know you did. At least if we’re doing this, we’re doing it as a family.”

“Lovelace?” Eiffel asked. “I know this is really shitty, but are you going to be… you know, okay?”

“Shut up, Eiffel.” She didn’t look at him. “ _ I’ll _ be fine. You should be worrying about yourselves.” Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides.

Eiffel seemed to have lost all sense of self-preservation at this point, because he pushed her: “Yes, but with what happened last year… You know if we grovelled a bit-”

“ _ Shut up, Eiffel, _ ” Jacobi hissed. Lovelace’s face was steel. Without another word, she rounded the corner, heading to Gryffindor Tower alone.

Eiffel watched her disappear. “She’s  _ really _ not going to be okay,” he muttered.

Hera shuddered, “Are  _ any _ of us?” she wondered aloud.

“We’ll be  _ fine, _ ” Jacobi said loudly, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. “He wouldn’t send us out there if it was  _ actually  _ life-threatening. And we’ll have help.” His stomach rolled a bit at the thought of having to face Kepler the next day, but he carried on valiantly. “They made him Head Boy for a reason, after all.”

“If you discount all the nepotism rumours, maybe,” Eiffel said, mournfully. “Because if they’re true, we’re doomed.”

“He’s a great wizard,” Jacobi shot back.

“And you’re not even a  _ little  _ biased when you say that?” The bickering wasn’t exactly playful, but it was preferable to anxiety-ridden silence as they returned the girls to Ravenclaw Tower and finally returned to their own dormitory. They were both curled up in bed before Eiffel spoke again: “Can you believe Cutter did this?”

“Yes,” Jacobi said sourly. He still remembered Cutter’s same delighted, sadistic expression from his Quidditch incident last year. “We’re probably lucky he didn’t do worse. Just wish he didn’t have to involve  _ Kepler  _ as well, that’s so…” he searched for a word to equal the shame in the pit of his stomach. “It’s just… needlessly cruel, you know? Twisting the knife. I bet he  _ knows,  _ somehow.”

“Well, if he’s an expert in one thing, it’s that. Do you think we’d be going to the Forest at all if Lovelace hadn’t been with us?”

“Probably not,” he sighed. “God, did you see her face? This is going to be  _ rough. _ ”

“Mm.” He wanted to defend Minkowski’s ability to keep her fellow students both safe and in line, but with Lovelace… “She might be helpful in keeping us all in one piece.” It didn’t feel likely, but it  _ could  _ happen. “You know, given that she’s got experience of not dying out there.”

“Yeah, or she accidentally kills us all in a PTSD-freakout.” Jacobi huffed, and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. “Fuck, we’re going to be tired tomorrow. You heard the man. Sleep while you’re still alive.”

Eiffel snorted. “What’s the point, if I can sleep when I’m dead tomorrow night?” But he rolled over onto his side and pretended to go to sleep anyway. He waited until he was sure Jacobi was asleep before slipping into the bathroom to be quietly sick.

*

The same group gathered together in the Entrance Hall at five o’clock. It was already twilight outside, the grey clouded sky getting more lightless with each passing second. Never had a group festooned in Eiffel’s colourful scarves and gloves looked more hopeless. Maxwell bounced anxiously on her toes. Hera’s arms were curled tightly around herself as though afraid she might break into pieces, her Veela glamour making it hard to even look at her directly without feeling sick from anxiety and a sense of  _ wrong _ ness. Eiffel had slung one of his arms around her shoulders, which seemed to provide them both with the strength to stand. Jacobi looked to be on the verge of an explosion. And Lovelace… Lovelace was the worst. Every muscle in her face and body was taut, as though she expected to fight or run at any minute, but her eyes were blank, almost unseeing, and she barely registered anything the others said to her. 

Minkowski looked stunned as she and Kepler entered, her gaze skipping between the faces in the group. “He  _ can’t  _ be serious.”

“Jacobi?” Kepler asked, blinking in surprise. “What are you - “ he paused, gaze settling on Eiffel beside him. “Ah. I see.”

Jacobi said nothing, cheeks burning red. On his other side, Maxwell continued fidgeting next to him.

Minkowski was glaring at Eiffel too. “Of course it was you. As soon as Kepler mentioned students sneaking out after hours to drink, I should have known it was you.”

Eiffel held up his hands. “It wasn’t as bad as he-”

She waved him off. “Nope, don’t want to hear it. And Hera, you  _ seriously _ let him drag you along?” She covered her eyes as if already exhausted with exasperation. “What did you even say to Cutter which made him come out with this ridiculous punishment?”

“It was… a mix of things.”

“Jacobi tried to be a hero and get me and Hera out of it,” Maxwell said helpfully, looking pointedly at Kepler. “But I think it just pissed him off more.”

“It must have done.” She rubbed her temples, then dropped the hand to her pocket. “Right, to ‘prevent accidents’, you all get one of these.” She pulled out a tangled bunch of necklaces, each of which held a compass-like pendant. “It’ll point you back towards the castle if we get separated. We have until midnight tonight to clear the Forest of any Acromantula near the edges. No wandering off, no attempted heroics, and  _ no _ running headlong into danger, or I’ll kill you myself before anything in the Forest can. Understood?”

Eiffel and Hera both rolled their eyes, but nodded. Lovelace didn’t appear to have been listening, and jumped when Minkowski pressed one of the compasses into her hand.

“These won’t help anyone,” she muttered, and stuffed it into her pocket.

The younger girl bit her lip. Lovelace shouldn’t be here. She should in a sane world be as far from here as possible. But apparently the headmaster was anything but sane at the moment. “Wear it anyway?” she finally said, trying to sound gentle. 

Lovelace locked eyes with her, softening only slightly for a fraction of a second as she saw the concern on Minkowski’s face. “Fine. If it’ll make  _ you  _ feel better.” She took her hand out of her pocket and looped the compass around her neck.

“Thank you.” She glanced away quickly, hoping Kepler hadn’t noticed. She didn’t particularly want to be reported to Cutter for unfairly favouring her friends, however much they deserved it.

Not that Kepler seemed to be paying any attention to what she was doing. He was too busy trying not to make eye contact with Jacobi as he helped him put on his compass. He folded his arms and stood up straighter once he caught her looking in his direction.

“Right,” he said, “Follow me, and  _ stick together _ if you want to actually get out of this.”

Eiffel snorted quietly, “What, no ‘let’s split up, gang?’” he muttered to Hera and Maxwell. Only the latter caught the reference, and gave a nervous half-giggle as they followed Kepler out of the castle and through the grounds. It was already dusk, and the Forest loomed menacingly ahead of them. Eiffel, Jacobi, and the Ravenclaws were clumped together behind Kepler, while the Gryffindors brought up the rear. When she realised Jacobi was trying to drop further back from Kepler, Maxwell nudged him forward, making him stumble until he fell into step with Kepler.

“Sorry you got dragged into this,” Jacobi mumbled. “It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

Kepler shrugged. “It’s not like I had anything better to do. Besides,” he gave him a quick smile, “I suspect that the Headmaster gave me this to ‘teach me a lesson’ about the type of company he thinks I’m keeping.”

“Oh,” Jacobi replied, staring at the floor. “Is that - I’m going to take a wild guess and say he doesn’t like you consorting with…”  _ Me.  _ “Known delinquents?”

“That sounds a little harsh,” Kepler said, almost sounding amused. “Would you call yourself a delinquent?”

“The first time you met me,” Jacobi said, dodging a tree root, “I was drowning my sorrows in Butterbeer because I nearly blew up a Quidditch team.”

“Point taken.” There was silence for a moment, then: “But fortunately for both of us, Cutter has nothing on me now that I’m Head Boy. So, I can consort with all the delinquents I like. Though if I had to pick just one…” He winked at Jacobi.

Behind them, Maxwell was hissing at Eiffel: “You see? They  _ have  _ to be dating. Pay up.”

“They’re in  _ detention, _ ” Eiffel hissed back. “Call me when they actually do something  _ romantic. _ Like  _ kiss. _ ”

Hera rolled her eyes, “Do you guys have nothing more  _ important  _ to worry about than who the Head Boy’s kissing? Like, I don’t know, the fact we’re spending the next four hours in the  _ Forbidden Forest  _ with  _ Isabel Lovelace?” _

“I’m right here,” Lovelace said, almost right next to her ear, and Hera jumped. “Do you have a  _ problem _ , with that, Pryce?”

“N-no!” Hera squeaked. “Actually, uh, I feel better with you here, because…” she trailed off, looking desperately at Eiffel.

“Lay off, Captain,” Eiffel said in a friendly tone. “She didn’t mean it. We’re all in the same boat.”

Lovelace laughed loudly, without a trace of humour. “You really have no idea what you’re talking about, kid.”

Minkowski laid a hand on her arm. “Lovelace-”

The other girl shook her off. “ _ Don’t.  _ You think this is just detention? Are you seriously that naive?”

Eiffel blinked. “Well, what else could it-” Minkowski was mouthing  _ shut up  _ at him from over her shoulder, but it was too late.

“Trust me, Cutter has plans for this, and it’s not about giving Hufflepuffs a slap on the wrist.” She strode off a little faster, leaving Eiffel behind.

“ _ Lovely. _ Now you’ve set her off,” Minkowski said, through gritted teeth. “You do realise she’s on the verge of flying completely off her broomstick? Great. Now let’s catch up with her before anyone gets hurt.” She chivied them along, looking more and more irritated by the second. Eiffel wasn’t fooled. Stress for Minkowski  _ always  _ surfaced as exasperation, and he wasn’t about to have  _ both  _ the Gryffindors on the verge of snapping.

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be OK. Cutter wouldn’t have sent us all out here if he thought there was any real danger you and Kepler couldn’t protect us from.”

Her shoulders slumped a little, only momentarily, but he still caught it. “I’m glad  _ someone _ believes that, Eiffel.”

Kepler and Jacobi were waiting at the fringe of the Forest, and there was already a tense silence as Lovelace nearly shoved past them. “Let’s get this over with.”

They stuck closely together at first, snaking between the huge trees and jumping at every snapped twig or rustling leaf. Lovelace ranged ahead, never quite out of sight but never close enough for anyone to talk to. Not that there was much talking. Once Kepler had explained Cutter’s instructions -  _ stick together, Stun any Acromantula close to the edges of the Forest, send up a flare if you get separated or injured  _ \- the group had fallen into a tense silence. 

Kepler was at the front, bridging the distance between the rest of the group and Lovelace, his wand shedding the only light up ahead that they could trust. Lovelace hadn’t lit her wand at all, but didn’t appear to need it to navigate the Forest. Minkowski hoped that was a good sign. Much as she would have liked to catch up with the other Gryffindor, someone had to make sure there were no stragglers left behind. Not that there was much chance of that - the two Ravenclaws still stuck close together, and Jacobi and Eiffel seemed to be keeping an eye on Maxwell and Hera respectively. Hera seemed pale, but composed, her spine straight as a wand, as though her mother would step out from behind a tree to test her composure at any moment. Eiffel seemed to be suffering as much from the oppressive silence as from anxiety. Maxwell appeared to be almost suffocating under the weight of silence, stress, and the gathering dark. And Jacobi… she’d never been able to read the Hufflepuff well, but his eyes were locked on Kepler’s back, in front of them.

None of them noticed at first that Alana was pulling ahead of the group. Though she appreciated her friends worrying about her as the youngest one there, she  _ hated  _ being surrounded on all sides by people, especially given that most of them were taller than her. She could breathe a little more freely when separated from them, even with the shadows of the Forest nipping at her heels with every step. She drew her wand and quietly cast her own  _ Lumos. _

Suddenly, she shrieked and stumbled. Kepler turned, and Jacobi almost sprinted to her side. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted, “I only caught my foot on a - _ ow. _ ” She staggered as she tried to put weight on it. 

Eiffel looked at the injury. “It’s probably only twisted, but we should send up a flare anyway.”

Maxwell shook her head, “I  _ told  _ you, I’m-” She broke off her sentence with a gasp, stumbling hard into Jacobi and Hera, knocking all three of them to the floor. Eiffel and Minkowski started forward, only to hear a sudden creak from the branches overhead. In perfect synchronisation, they looked up. Lowering itself from the canopy was a  _ colossal _ spider, and its many eyes were zeroed in on the fallen students.

Someone - none of them ever worked out who - screamed. Then several things happened in very quick succession. Minkowski yanked Eiffel back with one hand while drawing her wand with the other. Kepler drew his more quickly, but not quick enough. He felt something shove past him, wrecking his aim, and then they all heard a hoarse voice yell  “ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ”

The spider’s descent halt as its legs curled under it. It now swung limply from its thread, like a macabre children’s toy. Everyone stared at Lovelace, who now stood in the middle of the little clearing, wand still raised for a second shot. It wouldn’t be needed.

“You - you  _ killed _ it.” It was Eiffel who broke the silence, voice shaking. He pulled away from Minkowski and began pulling the fallen to their feet.

“It would have killed you first,” Lovelace said shortly. “Everyone all right? Maxwell? Hera?”

None of them replied immediately, and none of them stopped staring. “That was an  _ Unforgivable, _ ” Hera said, almost to herself, but in the silence it rang out as though she’d shouted it.

Lovelace looked as her as if she didn’t understand the words. “Acromantula are pack creatures. It has  _ friends.  _ It was too big to Stun - it would have attracted help. Now one’s down. You’re welcome.”

Minkowski joined Eiffel in pulling Maxwell up and supporting her. The girl’s eyes were full of tears. At first, they assumed it was her ankle, but then: “They can  _ talk. _ We could have talked to it!”

The Gryffindor drew away and allowed Jacobi to take her place. “Acromantula don’t usually  _ talk  _ to their food,” she began, almost kindly, but Lovelace interrupted her.

“What’s your problem _ ,  _ little girl?” Lovelace demanded. “Did you  _ want  _ to be spider-food? Did you think you could  _ reason  _ with it?”

“Enough,” Kepler said, cutting over Maxwell’s attempt to reply. “Back to the castle, all of you, before its  _ friends  _ find us. Maxwell, can you walk?” he raised his wand, ready to magick a stretcher if needed.

She nodded. “If I have someone on my bad side, I should be fine.”

“Good - Jacobi?” The Hufflepuff, already at her side, nodded. “Quickly, then. Minkowski and I will Vanish this and catch up with you.”

Lovelace seemed impatient that they were wasting time with discussion, and, with a glance at her compass, began to stride off in the direction it pointed when Eiffel grabbed her arm. 

“Captain?” he said, quietly, “That isn’t the way back to the castle.” He held up his own compass, and compared it to hers. It pointed in almost the opposite direction. “Hera?” he raised his voice slightly, “Get over here a moment and show us your compass. I need a second opinion.”

He could feel her anxiety washing off her in waves, making her almost impossible to look at directly, but she held out her compass to him. It matched his own. 

“What’s  _ wrong  _ with this thing?” Lovelace shook her compass, but it still steadfastly pointed her away from the others.

An odd expression passed Kepler’s face as he took off his own compass and handed it to her. “Take mine. Minkowski? With me?”

She nodded, but glanced at the two compasses in Lovelace’s hand first. Now they  _ both  _ pointed in the wrong direction. “Stay close to the others, and  _ don’t  _ touch any more of the compasses,” she ordered the other girl. “I’ll catch up to you later and look at the broken ones.”

She turned back to Kepler and the spider before the other girl could reply, and tried not to watch too anxiously as the little party of other students limped away.

“So,” she said, as she turned her wand on the spider, “how long is it going to take between us arriving back at the castle and you running to Cutter to tell tales? I need to know how much time I’m going to have to plan Lovelace’s escape.”

“Don’t assume,” he said tightly. 

“Oh, come on. You’ve been his pet since my first year. You’re really going to pretend everything went fine tonight? Maxwell might need to go to the Hospital Wing-”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “It’s just a twisted ankle. I can heal that easily, and as long as they avoid the Headmaster’s corridor, there’s no need for him to know that we came back early.” The Acromantula, still twitching, vanished. “Shall we?”

She blinked at him, then checked her compass and turned to follow it. “You’re really going to lie to  _ Cutter? _ I thought you were about the only student here who liked him!” she said as they walked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “I do like him. But that doesn’t mean I agree with all his calls - students could have died tonight. I’m Head Boy, I have a duty to look after you all. Even those of you I don’t particularly like,” he added, his habitual smirk finally returning to his face.

She looked at him for a moment, then took a deep breath, as though she’d made some important decision. “I think someone was  _ supposed  _ to die tonight.”

Kepler stopped walking. “Careful, Minkowski.”

Her eyes were wide and serious. “I’m not accusing anyone, not yet. But did you see what happened to your compass when you handed it to Lovelace?”

“I did,” Kepler said, slowly. “I just don’t think we should jump to any conclusions. And we should get back to the others before anyone else gets hurt.”

She nodded. “I think I can see their light ahead.” She was right, and they were almost at the edge of the Forest by the time they caught up with them. They hadn’t even gotten very far before the accident. She tried to suppress a shudder at the thought of what might have happened had they been deeper in the Forest when they’d encountered the monster.

The other students were all pale and seemed shaken, and all of them were keeping their distance from Lovelace. Maxwell was leaning against a tree stump, looking almost grey and swaying slightly. Eiffel was wrapping a scarf around her foot as an impromptu pressure bandage, but stopped as he saw the others arrive, relief visible on his face.

“The cavalry’s arrived at last,” he joked, weakly. “I take it you two successfully destroyed the evidence of our misdeeds?” Nobody laughed, but Minkowski felt a little reassured that Eiffel at least wasn’t entirely traumatised by the whole thing.

“Vanished into thin air,” Kepler replied. “Let me get a look at that foot before we walk up the hill.”

Eiffel dusted his knees off as he stood and let the Head Boy take his place. He drifted over to Minkowski and leant against her.

“Well, that could have gone… worse,” he said to her, softly.

“Could it?” Her eyes skipped between Maxwell and Lovelace.

“Nobody got eaten, so I think we can call it a successful little holiday in Hell,” he said, then nudged her with his elbow gently. “If you’re that worried about Lovelace, go talk to her.” He nodded in the direction of the older girl, who stood at the fringe of the trees as though keeping guard.

Minkowski pursed her lips. “I think I’m the last person she’ll want to talk to right now.”

“Sure you are, right after everyone else here and also probably Cutter. Go on, what’s the worst she can do?” He nudged her again.

_ Kill me like she did the spider?  _ Minkowski sighed. Maxwell was getting to her feet, a little unsteady but seemingly no longer in pain. “I’ll go get her. But if she bites my head off, I’m blaming you.”

She strode over to Lovelace, who didn’t turn to look at her. “Lovelace?” No response. “Isabel?” She jumped, and spun to face her as though expecting an attack. Minkowski held out her hands. “Nothing’s happened. We just need to walk back to the castle. Come on, walk with me.”

Lovelace stared at her for a moment before seeming to come back to reality. “Right,” she said, slowly. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” She held out a hand to Lovelace. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I should have been there first.”

“That’s not your job.” With only a slight hesitation, she took Minkowski’s hand. “That’s my job. Stay close to me,” she ordered, but she couldn’t stop it from sounding like a plea.

Minkowski nodded. “I’ll stay right by you. We can get some hot chocolate when we get back to the Tower and hide in our dorm until everyone else goes to bed, if you like.”

They joined the tail end of the group as they limped slowly back up to the glowing lights of the school. Eiffel glanced over his shoulder at them speculatively, then turned to Hera beside him. “Do you think-”

She glared at him, “Don’t you dare. I know what you’re thinking, but no. Leave them be.”

“But-”

“ _ No _ , Eiffel.”

“It worked fine for them!” He nodded at Kepler and Jacobi walking together up ahead.

She bumped against him with her shoulder. “Shut up, Eiffel. Let’s get back to our dorms and pretend this never happened.”

“Amen to that,” Maxwell added with a sigh. “If I  _ ever  _ see another spider again, it’ll be too soon.”

*

_ hufflepuff dormitory _

 

“Get off _ , _ ” Jacobi said half-heartedly, while rearranging the covers to give Eiffel some more room. “What’s wrong with  _ your _ bed?”

“It’s  _ cold,  _ idiot.” Eiffel wriggled closer to him. “We could get hypothermia from being out in the Forest for so long. I’m doing this for both of us.”

“How noble of you.” Jacobi moved into a more comfortable position, and slung an arm loosely over Eiffel’s waist, his face buried somewhere near his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked, after a while.

“Mm… I will be.” He paused, then: “I’d never seen an Unforgivable used before today.”

“Me neither. I uh, didn’t think I ever would.”

“Bit scary that Lovelace could just cast one like it was easy. Like anyone could do it.”

“Yeah.” He paused for a while, enjoying the warmth and the closeness after their time outside. “Kepler was so  _ calm  _ about it,” he commented.

“Well, snakes are cold-blooded,” Eiffel teased, then more seriously added, “He wouldn’t have done any good panicking, I guess. He is Head Boy for a reason.”

“He’s very… competent.” Jacobi smirked a little. “It’s kinda hot.”

“Eh, if you like that sort of thing.  _ Boring _ though.”

He kicked him, only just missing. “Jealous.”

“Of him? Never!” Eiffel kicked him back. “Seriously, though, I can’t believe you’re swooning over such a teacher’s pet. What happened to ruining the good name of Hufflepuff?”

“I’m not  _ swooning!  _ Just… admiring. He was really good tonight.” He tried not to think too hard about the way Kepler’s fingers had brushed over his neck as he helped with his compass, and failed miserably. “So, you know, at least detention wasn’t a  _ total  _ fiasco.”

“Pff, you’d like  _ any _ detention supervised by Kepler.”

“Well it’s not like he’s going to ask me out again, not after the last disaster. I’ll take what I can get. Why am I so bad at dating?”

“You do realise you’re asking that while cuddling with your ex, right?”

Jacobi kicked him again. “I’ve lived with you since we were eleven. I know by now there is  _ no _ way to escape Octopus-Eiffel when you get freaked out.” He burrowed in a little closer, not willing to admit the feeling was mutual. “Besides, you were right. It  _ is _ cold.”

“See? I’m always right. Especially about predicting the future. My Divination powers allowed me to know you were going to get cold.”

“Oh my God,  _ shut up.”  _ He leaned up and blew out the candles on the windowsill before snuggling back down again with a yawn. “Go to sleep, idiot.”

“Go to sleep yourself.” But he too snuggled in the blankets, and they quickly fell asleep.

*

_ gryffindor dormitory _

 

When Lovelace finally arrived back in their dormitory, smelling pleasantly warm and damp with her hair in a towel, she blinked in surprise to see Minkowski still awake and waiting for her.

“You should be asleep,” she said flatly, crossing the room to get to her own bed.

Minkowski folded her arms defensively, “So should you.” With a deliberate effort, she relaxed. “But I don’t think either of us are going to sleep just yet. Not after that.”

“Suit yourself.” Lovelace shrugged, and throwing her towel on the floor, got into bed. “I’ve got double Potions in the morning. I’m getting some sleep while I still can.”

“Good luck with that, it sounds dire.” Minkowski wriggled under her own blankets as though trying to disturb them as little as possible. They both stared up into the shadows of the canopy for a minute or so before she spoke again: “About the spider-”

“What  _ about  _ it?” Lovelace retorted, sounding dangerously exasperated.

“You made the right call,” she said, the words spilling out almost too quickly. “I don’t care what the others think. Someone could have died, and you… dealt with it.”

Lovelace paused for a moment before responding. “And here I thought Little Miss Prefect was about to give me a lecture,” she said eventually. “Very reasonable of you. Thanks,” she added, somewhat begrudgingly.

“You did what was necessary, the others will realise that once they’ve recovered from the shock. And you should never have had to make that decision anyway.” She rolled onto her side, trying to get a glimpse of Isabel’s face in the dark room. “Kepler and I were supposed to be responsible for everyone there. It should have been one of us, and I’m sorry that’s put you in this… position.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in a position.” Isabel sighed, and made herself more comfortable in the bed. Her hands gripped the sheets.  _ You’re here. You’re safe.  _ “I used to stun them, you know,” she said, almost conversationally. “It just made them come back angrier.”

“You’d know more about that than me.” Her hands ran restlessly over the seams of her quilt. “Or Kepler. Or anyone else in this school. You should never have been there again, but we got out because we had you with us. It’s almost paradoxical. I wish you hadn’t had to be there, but I’m glad you got us all back safely. It was pretty amazing, really.”

“Thanks, Minkowski. You weren’t too bad either, you know. For your first time out there.”  _ Pray you never go back. _

“I hope it’s the last time  _ any  _ of us end up in there.” She shuddered. “It’s pretty cold in here. Sure you don’t want that hot chocolate?” She still felt the electric current of fear running through her blood, and sleep was not going to come easily.

“We should both sleep,” Lovelace said, after considering it for a moment. “Don’t want you falling off your broom at practice tomorrow.”

“Mm…”  _ I don’t want to sleep. _ She didn’t want to keep Lovelace awake with fidgeting and questions but… she swung her legs out of bed and moved over to the window, leaning out into the cold night air. There was too much running through her head. Nothing made sense about this detention. And someone had gone to extreme lengths to scare or lose her dorm-mate in the forest. “Have you ever seen me fall off a broom before?”

“First time for everything,” Isabel said, biting back irritation.  _ Please go to sleep so I can freak out in peace.  _

“This has been a night of firsts for a lot of things. I’d never been in the Forest before now. I didn’t even know they  _ had  _ something like those compasses.” She hoped Lovelace had kept both the ones she’d held, and wondered if she could convince the other girl to give them to her.

“Yeah, well, Cutter’s a psychopath and Hogwarts is full of weird crap.” Isabel rolled over in bed, pointedly making the sheets rustle as much as possible. “You gonna stay there all night?”

“Maybe.” But she sighed, slammed the window shut with more force than necessary, and pulled the curtains across. “Better?” she asked, as she climbed back into bed. 

“Perfection,” Isabel drawled, half into the pillow. “Go to  _ sleep. _ ”

She bit back  _ who died and made you Prefect, _ because quarrelling with Lovelace wouldn’t help anything. Instead, she thumped her pillow. “I  _ am  _ asleep. Sleeping.” 

She waited for a noise from Lovelace’s bed. Nothing, nothing, nothing… she was half-tempted to pull out a book and get some reading done under the blankets, but as she sat up, she heard it. The muffled gasping of someone trying to cry without making any noise. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sound after six years at boarding school. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she slipped out of bed and quickly moved over to the other girl’s bed. Isabel, curled away from her, didn’t seem register her approach. With care, she leaned on the edge of the bed, out of reach of a thrown fist.

“Hey,” she whispered, softly, “Isabel, it’s OK. It’s over now. We’re all safe.”

Isabel let out a quiet gasp, muffled through tears. “Would it kill you to give me some goddamn privacy?” she asked, but didn’t push Minkowski away or pull the curtains closed. She just stayed in a rigid ball, as unmoving as possible.

Carefully, as though approaching a wild animal, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll go if you want me to. I can sleep in the Common Room. But you shouldn’t have to be alone right now.” She reached out a hand, let it hover for a moment, then drew back. Touching her might only upset her more right now. “You’re Isabel Lovelace, after all.  _ Nothing  _ embarrasses you.”

_ I’m not alone. You’re in the next bed. _ She wiped her eyes. “I’m  _ not  _ embarrassed,” she said thickly. “Just - just go to sleep. Please.”

She sighed, “OK.” She touched the other girl’s shoulder, just once, then returned to her own bed, and tried to ignore the crying. It felt wrong, somehow, but she didn’t know what more she could do. 

Neither of them slept well that night.

*

The next morning, none of the students looked particularly well-rested. Hera and Maxwell sat together at one end of the Ravenclaw table which had been entirely abandoned due to the half-Veela’s particularly off-putting aura. In place of the students who should have been there, Jacobi had wandered over to check on Maxwell, Eiffel had followed to pay the same attention to Hera, and Minkowski had joined her friends (at least in part to hide from Lovelace). They were a silent party, tired-eyed and irritable, and they greeted the shrieks that accompanied that morning’s owls with a unanimous groan, at least until 4 envelopes hit the table in front of them. 

Eiffel grabbed his first, “They’re all in the same writing, so our parents can’t be writing about the detention just yet.”

“Oh  _ no, _ ” Hera said, half-waking up with a start as she saw hers. “That’s mother’s handwriting.” She picked hers up as if it might explode, but it didn’t  _ look  _ like a Howler. The card stock was nice, high-quality, with embossed decorations. She quickly counted how many there were, and relaxed incrementally. “It’s okay,” she said with a sigh. “They’re invitations.”

“Invitations to what?” Minkowski asked, as careful opening hers as Eiffel was enthusiastic in tearing his open.

“To the Pryce and Carter Yule Ball!” he grinned, “Looks like we’re allowed out with the grown-ups at last, right, Hera?”

Similar envelopes were descending on the Lovelace Administration, and upon Lovelace herself, who had to shoo away the owl that seemed determined to perch on her head.

Minkowski rested her head in her hands. “She really let you invite guests this year?” She’d been hoping she could avoid it for one more school year.

Alana was still staring at her unopened envelope. “This is for me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hera replied, to both girls. “Please come, for me? It’s going to be a nightmare if I’m on my own.”

Alana beamed and Minkowski sighed. “Well, we’re in this together. And at the very least your mother can’t kill any of us if we stick together.”

“Oh, someone  _ please _ take a picture of Alana in dress robes for me,” Jacobi interjected, practically grinning despite the exhaustion.

“You won’t need one.” They all jumped at the Head Boy’s voice from behind them. He held his own invitation up for them to see, “Fancy a party, Jacobi?”

Eiffel craned his neck to examine the invitation, then turned to Hera, affronted. “How come  _ he  _ gets a plus one?”

“Who do you even know that’s not already going?” Minkowski asked, as Jacobi blinked up at Kepler.

“Uh,” he said, his startled early-morning brain searching for any words at all, let alone the right ones. “You’re asking me to go with you?” he clarified, and almost winced at how awkward he sounded.

Kepler smiled.  _ Ugh, he  _ would  _ be a morning person _ . “That was the implication.”

Eiffel elbowed him. “Are you going to answer now or sneak off to whisper about it for a bit? Or would you rather keep blinking like someone’s Confunded you?”

“ _ Shut up, _ ” Jacobi hissed, suddenly wide awake. He looked back at Kepler. “I’d love to,” he said quickly, willing him in the nicest possible way to  _ leave  _ and let him deal with their sudden audience.

“Then I’ll see you there.” Kepler turned and walked back to his own table, a slight spring in his step.

Alana watched him leave. “Was he just  _ whistling? _ !” She turned to Eiffel. “Pay up.  _ Right  _ now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap on Autumn! (Ada didn't win the Autumn/Winter term debate.) Next up; the Yule Ball, motor breakdowns, enchanted mistletoe, and interesting fashion choices. Thanks to those who let us know they were reading with a comment or a kudos, it means the world to us.


	5. interlude: the yule ball (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Pryce and Carter Yule Ball! Also; enchanted mistletoe, old-fashioned dress robes, that motley crew of Gryffindors, and the universal law of charity shopping.

“You know, I’m not sure I approve of my little sister dating a _Pryce,_ ” Jacobi said, pushing open the door of the first charity shop of three in the village. “Especially not if it means I have to wear a _suit_.”

Maxwell glared at him. “It’s not a _date_ , idiot, it’s just an invitation to a party everyone else is going to.” She began rifling through the racks nearest the door with a frantic air. Shopping was _stressful._

“Right, because we get invited to pureblood society parties _all the time._ They are all just _dying_ to see two Muggleborn kids from the middle of nowhere in their fancy homes.”

“Says the boy who’s dating the _Slytherin Head Boy_.” She held up a bright pink dress made entirely of ruffles with a disgusted expression. “He actually invited you as his date!”

“You should definitely wear that, it suits you.” Jacobi leaned back against a cupboard full of costume jewellery and novelty teapots. “And a plus-one isn’t a _date._ There’s no way he’d actually want _his_ kind of people to see him with _me_ as a date.” He wondered if there had ever even been a Hufflepuff in the Pryce mansion, let alone a Muggleborn one.

Maxwell sniffed, shoving the dress back onto the rack untidily. The shop assistant winced. “Then why is he bringing you along at all if it’s not as a date?”

“As always, I have no idea. Maybe he’s bored of society people.” He nodded towards a red dress on a mannequin. “What about that? Christmassy,” he evaluated.

She shook her head, “I’m pretty sure Minkowski and Lovelace will be there and at least one of them will end up in Gryffindor colours. I’ve never seen either of them in anything else.” She held up a leather jacket and twirled. “I’d wear this if I wouldn’t boil to death in it.”

“Maybe not for a ball, honey.” He made a mental note to double back and buy it without her seeing, it would make a good Christmas present. “There’s not going to be a single suit in this place that fits me. Maybe I can get away with smart trousers and like… a waistcoat, or something. Do you think anyone would notice if I wore my school trousers?”

“I doubt it. I bet half the people at the ball will still be in dress-robes like we’re still living in the nineties. Or the eighteen-nineties.” She tilted her head to one side thoughtfully, “A waistcoat would look good on you, though. And it’s a universal law of charity shopping that you always find at least one really nice waistcoat!” She spun towards the men’s racks and began sifting through them with a renewed enthusiasm. “What about this one?”

“Way too big.” A thought struck him. “He’s wearing green. Am I supposed to, like, dress to match?”

She snorted. “If it’s a _date_ , then yes. Otherwise, I don’t think anyone will care.” She paused, hit by a sudden thought. “I have _no idea_ what Hera’s wearing, do you think she’ll mind?”

“Dress robes,” Jacobi said decidedly. “The Pryce family colours are blue and silver, and Eiffel said her mum’s really controlling, so she’ll probably be given like, a family heirloom to wear.” He looked back over at the women’s rack. “So, blue? Dark blue would look good on you.”

“This waistcoat’s green!” she announced, ignoring him triumphantly. Then she actually _looked_ at what she’d picked out, and wrinkled her nose. “...Maybe not?”

“ _Definitely_ not.” He was torn between wanting to look the part, and not wanting to conform to the dress code of a society that had always excluded him. “Oh look, bowties. I could rock a bowtie. Hey, do you know how we’re getting there? Or where this place even _is?_ ”

She bounced over to the bowties, holding each in turn up against him with a critical expression. “I have no idea. Probably out in the countryside, given that they call it a manor. I guess most people will be Apparating. Hopefully one of them will give us a lift?” She paused. “This bowtie looks good, and we should be able to find a waistcoat to match. What do you think?”

He’d been thinking that nothing he wore could match Kepler for style, but her enthusiasm was endearing. “Yeah, that’s cool. Maybe there’s a bus stop nearby, or I can steal dad’s car again. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to apparate.” He slung the bowtie over his arm. “Come on, you, dresses. Or do you want a suit too? Have you ever worn a dress in your life?”

“I’ve worn dresses!” she said, defensively, “To church and stuff, anyway. I’m just…” She bounced on her toes for a moment, “Ugh, it’s stupid, never mind.” She returned her gaze to the clothes.

He bopped her lightly on the nose as they started looking through the racks again. “What is it? Tell me.”

“The Pryces aren’t just purebloods, they’re _Veela._ Have you seen Rhea Pryce? She’s gorgeous. And you can bet that all the _human_ girls there will fit in just as well, and I’m just…” She shrugged, “me. Some Muggleborn girl who can’t even make eye contact for more than a second. I don’t know why she even invited me.” She blew a curl away from her eyes.

Jacobi frowned, stopping his motions to put his hands on her shoulders. “No, you stop that, idiot. She invited you because she _likes_ you. Screw what the rest of them think. You’ll be the prettiest girl there and I will hex anyone who says differently, okay?”

She smiled at that. “We’ll hex _anyone_ who thinks we don’t belong there. _Ah!_ ” She pounced on a hanger triumphantly, holding up a final waistcoat. “ _This_ will fit you perfectly. And go with the bowtie!”

“Nice,” he nodded. It would fit over his binder nicely and didn’t even look too charity-shop-esque. “All right, we might come out of this without looking _too_ embarrassing. Now we need a dress for you; no heels though, you’re already taller than me.”

“When was the last time you saw me in heels?” She turned back to the women’s racks with far less enthusiasm. “These are _terrible._ And I’m pretty sure half of them came out of my mum’s wardrobe.”

“I still liked the pink one,” Jacobi smirked.

*

Rhea knocked on her sister’s door with a feeling of trepidation. “Hera?”

“Who is it?” Hera’s voice called out, too quietly.

No response. “Hera! Your friends are going to be here soon, are you still not up?”

Hera’s door opened slowly, and her big eyes blinked around the door before she realised who was speaking. “Sorry! I thought you were mum. I’m up, I’m up, come in.”

“She sent me up to wake you up and tell you she’s picked out our dress robes for the ball.” She held out the hangers over her arm with an apologetic expression. “If it’s any comfort, they’re both equally awful.”

Hera had forgotten about the dress robes. Light blue and silver and _deeply_ unfashionable, with high collars and long sleeves. “Alana can’t see me in _these_ ,” she wailed, taking them from Rhea and holding them like they might explode. “It’s not fair, you look good in anything.” Their mother had been deeply disappointed to find out that Veela genes didn’t necessarily produce beauty, especially if one was too anxious to wield them properly. Rhea, however, always looked like a goddess. “Why can’t I wear a dress like a _normal_ person?”

“Because ‘Pryces are _not_ normal people.’” Rhea’s impersonation of their mother was, as usual, scarily accurate. She looked at the robes with a critical eye. “You know, they’re too long for you anyway. And if we’re going to have to take them up as it is…” A wicked glint appeared in her eye. “We could make a few more alterations.”

“Are you serious? You’re the best sister _ever,_ ” Hera grinned. “But mum will kill you!”

Rhea shrugged. “If she was actually going to do it, she would have done it when I didn’t make Head Girl. She has _nothing_ on me any more.”

She patted Rhea’s arm sympathetically. “Young’s coming to the ball, right? Do you think mum will try and adopt her? Finally, the Slytherin daughter she’s always wanted.” She walked further back into her room and held up the offending dress robes against her body, looking in the mirror. They would have to make a _lot_ of alterations.

“That would be a match made in Heaven. Think we could bribe your Hufflepuff friend to set it up?” Rhea began tweaking the fabric of the robes. “They’ll need to be taken in to start with, or you’ll look like you’re playing dress-up in Mother’s clothes. Though I guess we both are.” She made a face at her own robes.

“Well, he _is_ bringing enchanted mistletoe…” Hera started to laugh, and then stopped dead. “Oh, _no_.”

Rhea’s eyes were equally wide. “Mother’s actually going to kill him. Christmas just got _interesting._ Do you think they’ll let me keep the Manor when she goes to Azkaban?”

“Forget about _that_! What if I get stuck under one with Alana?” Her eyes grew large and horrified, and she ran to the bed. “I’ve got to tell him to stop. Why don’t we own a phone?!”

“Because Mother doesn’t approve of Muggle contraptions ? And if you get stuck under one with Alana, I suppose you’ll find out whether she’s interested or not at last.”

“Of course she’s not interested,” Hera scoffed.

Rhea smiled, “You keep telling yourself that, little sister. If you’re that worried, just keep an eye on where he puts it and avoid those areas like the plague.”

“Right. Right.” Hera sighed, and started to droop. “Oh, I _hate_ parties.”

Her older sister wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “You can get through it, little bird. At least you’re allowed to bring friends this year?”

“Friends who will run a mile when they finally see how crazy our house is,” Hera grumbled, but leaned into Rhea and hummed contentedly as she was hugged.

“Girls.” They sprung apart at the quiet voice from the doorway. Their mother didn’t shout. Miranda Pryce never needed to. “I thought I called the two of you downstairs half an hour ago.”

“Sorry, mother,” they chorused with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Rhea was just giving me my robes,” Hera said sullenly from her spot on the bed. “They’re… lovely. Thank you.”

“ _Tone,_ Hera.” She pursed her lips. “How can I face society with daughters who have no concept of politeness or punctuality? Are you planning to be late for the ball as well as for breakfast?”

“We’ll be right down,” Rhea promised, ever the peacemaker. “Mother, Hera’s friends are coming at midday, and mine are apparating later. I’m going to need some time to take up her robes before they arrive, they’ll drown her otherwise. Do you need me much today?”

Miranda ignored her almost completely. “ _Which_ of your friends are coming, Rhea? Not that motley crew of Gryffindors again.”

Rhea let the insult to her friends pass without a blink. “The ones I’ve previously introduced you to, yes, Mother. I wouldn’t invite _strangers_ to our party.” She managed to somehow make it sound entirely reasonable, but that didn’t alter Miranda’s icy expression. “Victoire and Kuan are Ravenclaws,” she added. “You _liked_ Victoire. She went to Beauxbatons for a while, remember?”

Miranda made an expression that suggested she was refraining from the uncouth gesture of rolling her eyes. “And you, Hera? Whose presence are you gracing us with?”

Hera looked down at the carpet. “Renée and Doug,” she mumbled. “You know them already. And… a new friend I made this year.”

“And their name is?” It was always about names with their mother. Old names. Wealthy names. _Pureblood_ names.

“Alana Maxwell,” Hera said, even quieter than before. “You don’t know her. She’s in my house.”

Miranda raised one eyebrow. “I’ve never heard the name _Maxwell_ before. Half-blood?”

“No.” She looked to Rhea for help, but neither of them had ever been good at this. “Alana’s Muggleborn, mother. You said I could invite _any_ of my friends,” she added, jutting out her chin defiantly.

Their mother sighed. “Oh, _Hera._ I suppose I can’t expect any better from you.”

“Mother…” Rhea started, placatingly.

“Oh no, never mind.” Miranda looked as if Hera had stabbed her, and played the martyr _wonderfully._ “Apparently Kepler’s oldest boy is bringing a Muggleborn _Hufflepuff,_ so we were already doomed. I wouldn’t have thought I’d have to worry about _my_ daughters, but of course, you always _exceed expectations,_ dears _._ ”

The girls exchanged glances, Hera’s wounded, Rhea’s calculating. “ _Kepler’s_ bringing a Hufflepuff?” Rhea asked, coolly, “I assumed he’d be bringing Young, especially given that Professor Cutter will be at the ball.” As an attempt to divert their mother’s wrath to a new target, it was a careful one.

“Yes, well,” Miranda sighed. “Poor Marcus is beside himself, he doesn’t know where he went wrong. You’ll look after dear Rachel, won’t you Rhea? She’s such a lovely girl, and she must be awfully disappointed.”

Rhea inclined her head. “Of course, Mother.” It would be a cold day in Hell before ‘dear Rachel’ required looking after, but there was no point telling Miranda this. “My friends and I will keep her company.”

“Lovelace will _love_ that,” Hera muttered under her breath to Rhea, who had to cough to hide a snigger.

“Don’t _mumble,_ Hera, you know I hate it when you mumble. It’s unbecoming.”

“Yes, Mother,” Hera said a little more clearly. Her gaze, directed towards Rhea, became a little more pleading. “Shall we go to breakfast? _Please?_ ”

Rhea nodded, and grabbed Hera’s hand as if to lead her away. Their mother paused for a moment, looked them over, and turned to leave. At the door, she looked back at them.

“Hera, do get dressed. You know I can’t abide pyjamas at the dining table.” She gave a final, disappointed sniff, and left.

The girls exchanged resigned glances. Christmas with Mother was always _delightful._

*

“What do you _mean_ , you’re not driving me?” Rachel slotted the last pin into her hijab and pulled open her bedroom door, furious but resplendent in a long-sleeved olive-green dress, complete with a floaty cape and embroidered with beaded flowers.

“You _can_ Apparate, Rachel.” Kepler was already waiting in the hall, immaculate in his similarly-coloured suit. “Jacobi and Maxwell can’t.”

“So I’m supposed to just _walk_ up the driveway? I only keep you around because you have a nice car,” she snarked. “Can’t they fly or something?”

“And ruin their party clothes? Have some mercy, Young. Besides, if we time it right, I can pick you up at the bottom of the driveway after you Apparate in.”

“I can’t believe you invited him,” she said, sighing as she picked out jewellery. “Cutter’s furious, you know. Not that you could tell since he always has the same facial expression, but Ms Pryce told me so, and you know they’re close.”

“If sharks can develop emotional attachments, the two of them are definitely ‘close’. But what exactly can Cutter do? Uninvite my guest and risk the wrath of the Prophet for openly meddling in his students romantic lives rather than trying to matchmake more covertly, like a _good_ headmaster?”

“Your _guest_?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, sweetheart, have you still not told him you’re his boyfriend?”

To her amusement, Kepler looked uncomfortable, an expression she’d rarely seen on him since their first year. “I don’t _know_ if he’s my boyfriend, remember?”

“Is this how you usually date people, Warren? By _stealth_?”

He looked irritated now. “You try dating someone whose only dorm-mate is _actively_ trying to sabotage your every move. I can barely make eye contact with him without tripping over Eiffel.”

She laughed indulgently, and walked over to straighten his tie. “Well then, no wonder you want to drive him. You know Eiffel will be at the ball, don’t you? Rhea’s little sister invited him.”

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “She didn’t.”

“Oh yes, darling, she did. Eiffel and the Minkowski girl, from Gryffindor.” She didn’t bother explaining how she knew; it was common knowledge that Rachel Young knew everything about everyone. “So I’d take the scenic route, if I were you.”

Kepler covered his eyes with one hand. “And I agreed to pick up Jacobi’s little fifth-year friend as well.” He sighed. “Guess this isn’t going to be the romantic dance I’d hoped for.”

Satisfied with his appearance, she dropped her hands. “You’ve gone soft,” she chastised him. “Last year’s Warren Kepler would have just whisked him off somewhere and actually _told_ him they were dating, not danced around it for months. Who _are_ you, these days?”

He adjusted the folds of her scarf so the edges lined up perfectly with the neckline of her dress, returning the favour. “Still the same Warren Kepler. Who is getting _very_ irritated with that _moron_ sabotaging my every move.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose you could get him out of the way for at least some of the evening? Preferably in a non-fatal manner? Murder is such an ugly way to end a party.”

Rachel folded her arms, unimpressed. “You come here to tell me I have to make my own way to the ball, and then ask me for a favour?”

“We’re Head Boy and Head Girl. If we don’t do each other favours, who will? It’s not like there’s anyone above us in the pecking order who could get us anything _useful._ ”

She sighed, and acquiesced. “At least it will give me an excuse not to be shackled to Rhea all night. Her mother’s still convinced that we’re the best of friends.” All based on a few awkward preteen playdates, before they both went to Hogwarts and Rhea fell in with her misfit band of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

“Disposing of Eiffel should be marginally more entertaining than spending time with that little band,” Kepler agreed. “Besides, there are few people I’d rather involve in a scheme than you.”

“Oh sweetheart, you always know what to say.” She flicked her fingers imperiously. “Go on, go collect your little badger.”

He gave her a genuine smile as he left, and she had to stop herself from immediately returning it. If nothing else, keeping Kepler’s date private would provide her with some light entertainment at the Pryce and Carter Yule Ball.

*

“I can’t _believe_ you’re doing this,” Minkowski hissed from the foot of the ladder.

“I can!” Hera answered from the doorway.

Eiffel glared at both of them from his position in the beams of the roof, casting Sticking Charms on the bundles of enchanted mistletoe.

“You two have no Christmas spirit!” he announced, only to be hushed by the girls, who stared about them as though Miranda  could crawl out of any shadow. He lowered his voice. “I’d’ve thought you’d both be on board with anything that upsets She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Minkowski snorted, “While we’re staying in her house? Have you _met_ the woman? If she catches us, she’ll kill us. Or worse, expel us.”

Hera tugged the floor-length cloak that was hiding her dress until the last minute tighter around her shoulders. Rhea had gone a little overboard with the ‘alterations’, but… she loved it. “Trust me,” she said darkly, “it won’t be her biggest issue tonight.”

Eiffel was still clambering about in the rafters, out of their line of sight. “She’s going to have plenty on her mind with the ball. There’s no reason to think she’ll catch us for our little bit of fun.”

“Who is this fun _for,_ exactly?” Hera asked, but couldn’t restrain a smile. Two weeks stuck with her mother and away from her friends had been torture. She’d never been happier to see them walk up the driveway. “Are you nearly done? Guests will be arriving soon.”

Eiffel hung upside-down from a beam for a moment, as if to admire his handiwork from below, and then scrambled back down the ladder. “I should probably change in that case,” he said, cheerfully. “You girls are going to _love_ my jacket.”

Minkowski sighed. “Why do I get the feeling that means the opposite of what it sounds like?”

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone will be looking at _you_ ,” Hera said, smiling fondly at her friend. Renée had unpacked a gorgeous crimson dress, with an attached cloak and intricate beading on the shoulders. Her long copper hair was gathered into an elegant ponytail that fell down one shoulder. She looked entirely different from her usual self, and utterly beautiful. “That colour really suits you,” she said.

Minkowski blushed, picking at the beadwork nervously. “You think so? I know I’m not going to hold a candle to you and your sister, but-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hera scoffed. “Although Rhea has somehow managed to look incredible in Mother’s old dress robes. What a bitch,” she added, although her tone was deeply fond. “You should wear that on your first day as Head Girl, you’ll look like the Queen of the school.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I _really_ hope I’m still in with a shot for that. Lovelace is getting pretty… competitive.” _That_ was an understatement, as both her friends were perfectly aware.

“Lovelace? Competitive?” Eiffel snorted. “Say it ain’t so.”

“Shut up, Eiffel!” the girls yelled in unison. Minkowski continued to Hera: “I thought it was a friendly rivalry at first, but now I’m not so sure. And she’s going to be at the ball tonight! What if she’s planning something?”

“That… seems a little paranoid,” Hera said. “She’s here as Rhea’s friend, not as an act of… political sabotage.”

“Can’t it be both?” Eiffel teased.

Minkowski looked uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t accuse her of _sabotaging_ me exactly, but you know how dramatic she can be. What if she stages some grand stunt so exciting that _everyone_ thinks she deserves to be Head Girl?”

“You know it’s not a voting system, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that! But she’s _Isabel Lovelace,_ nobody can make a scene like her.”

Hera paused, staring off into the distance of the hall. “I’ll say.”

At the end of the hall, where guests had started to trickle in slowly, Isabel Lovelace strode in. Her tall frame was statuesque in golden heels, and she wore a dress of a floaty yet structured material, that was gilded gold around her bare shoulders and faded out to a translucent white skirt that showed off her long legs. There were gold clips in her natural black hair, and simple bracelets stacked up on her wrists. She somehow managed to look angelic and fearsome simultaneously, and all heads turned towards her.

Eiffel whistled. “That’s what I call an entrance.”

Minkowski didn’t say anything. She only stared, entirely dumbstruck, as her friends turned to look at her.

Hera giggled. “Well, that was certainly something. Are you two coming up the servants’ stairs with me so we can make our own entrance?” She tugged at her friend’s arm when she received no response.

Eiffel joined her, “Hey, earth to Minkowski? Do you read us?” He looked at her vacant expression. “Wow, I think Lovelace broke her.”

“I think she’s broken a lot of people,” Hera said, watching mouths fall open as Lovelace walked. “Oh, she’s coming towards us. Eiffel, with me? You still need to get dressed!”

He looked between the three women. “You know, I feel a little bad abandoning her, and I think this is going to be _hilarious,_ but you’re right. We have an entire party to spy on these two.” He allowed Hera to lead him away. Minkowski barely seemed to register that they’d gone.

“Minkowski,” Lovelace greeted her, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on everyone. “I thought I might see you here. You look… so different,” she said, looking her up and down unashamedly. “It’s a _good_ look. I’m used to seeing you in helmets and kneepads.”

She _knew_ she was turning as red as her dress. “Thanks,” she managed to choke out. “Yours too. It’s a good look, I mean.”

Isabel smiled, smoothing out her dress nonchalantly. “Victoire nagged me into shopping. Girl’s got good taste. I thought the gold was a bit much, but when you’re invited to the house of a prominent Slytherin alumna, what else can you do?”

“Well, we seem to be representing our House well tonight.” _Merlin,_ she sounded awkward. “Were you the first to arrive out of Rhea’s guests?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I can’t Apparate yet, so I drove here. The others are coming later. Hui offered to take me on side-along Apparition, but I trust his sense of direction about as much as I trust these heels,” she joked. “I miss my boots. What about you? Are you with Hera - where did she go, anyway?”

“Allegedly to find Eiffel his clothes. I think she’s just saving her grand entrance until her crush arrives,” she replied, lightly. “I’m glad I got a chance to see you before everyone else arrived.” She did _not_ need an audience formed of the Lovelace Administration to witness her humiliation.

Lovelace smiled. “Yeah, I’ve actually missed my dorm-mate. I got used to being nagged about rules and bedtimes.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a _terrible_ liar?” she teased, “Who misses _nagging_ when they go home for Christmas?”

“I’m serious!” Lovelace laughed, and then cleared her throat. “I actually… I haven’t been sleeping too well, without you there to nag me into getting some rest. And, you know, all the other things. Hot chocolate and whatnot. I tried making it on my own, but it just wasn’t the same - what do you _do_ to that stuff?”

MInkowski smirked, “Trade secret, I’m afraid. Still, at least you’ve got something to look forward to for when term starts again.”

“That, and when we crush Slytherin.” She looked around at the rapidly-filling hall. “Merlin, there’s Lambert. What is he _wearing?_ I’d better go rescue him before he says something annoying to the wrong person.” A dangerously attractive look crossed across her face. “Hey, save me a dance, all right? You’re one of the only girls tall enough.”

Now she was _definitely_ blushing. “How can I possibly refuse a request like that? You go rescue your friends, I’ll go dig mine out of hiding.” And hopefully recover her composure. Apparently, Isabel Lovelace didn’t need a master plan to fluster her. She was _never_ going to make Head Girl like this.

“Good luck,” Isabel said, and winked before swanning off to take Lambert by the arm and drag him away from unsuspecting Slytherins.

*

Rhea had to clap a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. Her eyes danced between Lovelace and Lambert. Both of them had managed to surprise her.

“You both look - lovely,” she managed to gasp, before throwing her arms around them, “but who on _earth_ took you shopping?”

“Victoire, but Lambert skipped the shopping trip,” Lovelace said with a smirk, eyeing his ill-fitting blue and brown suit, which he’d teamed with a practically antique gold-edged tartan cape.

“I followed Fourier’s instructions _to the letter,_ ” he hissed. “She said blue and gold or brown. This is _all of those things._ ”

“It - it certainly is,” Rhea agreed. “Lovelace, do you mind if we ditch you while I help Sam with some adjustments? Victoire and Kuan should be putting their cloaks away.” She nodded in the direction of the cloakroom.

As she left, Sam looked back at Rhea with a pitiable air and self-consciously adjusted his cloak. “You don’t like it, do you?”

She looped her arm through his, steering him quickly out of the Great Hall. “Darling, I love it, because you’re _here_ and you’re wearing it. I just want to make sure you can actually _dance_ in that thing.” She began deftly flicking her wand over the most awkwardly-fitting seams, gently reshaping them until the suit, for all its poor design, actually _fit_ its wearer.

“No dancing,” he said, mildly aghast. “Rhea, you _promised_ -”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, “I said no dancing _in public._ I don’t want Mother to get ideas.” Then she began to smile, “In _private,_ however…”

“ _Rhea…_ ” he let himself be lead into a ballroom hold, and fluttered his arms nervously until she placed them firmly on her waist. “Rhea, I don’t know what I’m doing. Have mercy.” He didn’t draw away, however, swaying gently on the spot instead of attempting a step.

“Come on, Sam, it’s Christmas! Just one dance?” She began to lead them, stepping gently in time to the music from the hall. He followed her steps far less gracefully, but she didn’t stop smiling. If anything, she looked happier.

“You’re using your powers for evil,” he accused, but she could tell he was enjoying himself. “I missed you,” he added, not meeting her eyes.

“I missed you too. I can’t wait to be back at school so we don’t have to sneak around like this.” Or at least sneaking around was easier in a school full of equally hormonal teenagers.

Sam frowned. “We don’t _have_ to sneak around anywhere…”

She lifted one hand from his shoulder to tap him gently on the nose. “Oh yes we do. Mother _approves_ of you!” She shuddered. “If she finds out about us, she’ll be planning our wedding before the end of the year.”

“That’s not so awful,” he mumbled, suddenly concentrating very hard on his footwork. “And why can’t we tell our _friends?_ It just feels like - oh, don’t worry.”

She stopped smiling and looped her arms around his neck. “What is it? Tell me.”

He sighed. “It just feels like… like you dating me is just another long joke that I won’t understand the punchline of. It’s not, is it?”

“Of course not.” Her voice was certain, soothing. “I’m dating you because I _like_ you. And it’s a secret because I like having something to ourselves, without our friends and my mother swarming all over it. Once we’re not all living in the same building, we can tell them everything, I promise.”

“If you put up with me that long…” They swayed on the spot for a while, her arms still around his neck. “You look really nice tonight,” he said, going a little pink as she smiled again.

“So do you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently. “And I’m not ‘putting up’ with you. I ‘put up’ with Rachel Young and Hera’s matchmaking Hufflepuff. I’m _dating_ you.”

“Yeah,” he grinned slightly, looking pleased with himself. “You are, aren’t you? Who’d have thought _we’d_ get together before Fourier and Hui…”

“Anyone who’s ever met the two of them before?” she teased. “ _We’re_ sensible. They’ll talk the sun down before they discuss their feelings.”

“ _Ravenclaws,_ ” he teased.

She mock-pouted. “ _I’m_ a Ravenclaw, genius.”

“Well, there are exceptions to every rule. You’re the genius.” He paused, his smile softening. “Can I kiss you again before we have to go out there?”

“You can _definitely_ kiss me.” She tilted her head up expectantly, and they kissed, slowly and sweetly as the distant music played on. Finally, reluctantly, they broke apart. Rhea sighed. “We should probably get back to the party before someone comes looking for us.”

“I don’t know, you might have reconciled me to this _dancing_ idea…” he dropped his hands from her waist, and sadly stepped back. “I know how your mother is. Will you come find me if you need a breather? I worry…”

She smiled, “I know. And I love that you care enough to worry, but I’ll be alright. I have you with me.” She paused, then added, “And Fisher _promised_ he’d bring some actual alcohol for later.”

“Time to break out my Rhea dictionary again,” he joked. “That’ll be _fun._ I’ll go find them. See you soon?”

She nodded, “Try not to let them do anything _too_ dreadful,” she joked, “I’ll come find you all when I’ve paid my dues as the dutiful daughter for the evening.”

He mock-saluted. “I will keep a close eye on them, ma’am.” With a last, wistful look, he straightened up his tie and exited first.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the outfit descriptions in this chapter intrigued you, have no fear! We collected all our fashion inspirations and put them into a handy fic aesthetic post for your viewing pleasure. Available here: (http://captainlovelxce.tumblr.com/post/163686256173/fic-aesthetics-of-whatsapp-wool-and-wizarding)
> 
> Do let us know your thoughts in the comments, and join us sometime next week for part two of the Yule Ball!


	6. interlude: the yule ball (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back at the Pryce and Carter Yule Ball, and the party's in full swing. Also; mechanical issues, grand entrances, ridiculous heels, self-refilling flasks, Rhea's language, and spreading Christmas cheer.

Jacobi stood awkwardly in the field by the country road the car had broken down on. Kepler, who was of age, was helpfully providing a light from his wand, while Alana, who loved all things mechanical, was busy under the hood. He dug his hands into his pockets. His own special skill of ‘making things blow up’ wouldn’t exactly be helpful.

“Can I do anything?” he asked awkwardly.

Alana shook her head without looking up. “Just stay out of the way and try not to set anything on fire.”

Kepler sighed. “I can’t believe this. Young’s going to laugh herself sick if she hears we’re late because of a breakdown after I said I couldn’t drive her.”

Jacobi’s ears perked up at that. “You turned down Rachel to come pick _us_ up?”

He waved a hand dismissively, “She can Apparate. You two can’t. It was the logical decision.” That he was only regretting because he suspected sabotage on the part of the Head Girl.

“That was nice of you,” Jacobi said, smiling. They locked eyes until Alana pointedly cleared her throat.

“You know, I could probably handle the rest of this on my own, if you two want to, uh… scout out the road ahead.”

Jacobi blushed and looked away. Kepler nodded, “That’s… an excellent idea,” he agreed, then turned back to Jacobi, “Shall we?”

“Uh.” He coughed, and glared daggers at Alana before switching his gaze back to Kepler. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” He straightened up, and followed Kepler on a directionless walk. “I, uh… I’m so glad you’re with me on this _very dangerous_ recon mission. Never know what you might find on these tiny country roads.”

“There could be anything about,” Kepler replied, with a smile, “We should probably keep our eyes open.” He didn’t take his gaze from Jacobi.

“I’m kind of relieved.” He let out a small chuckle. “I was dreading that party.”

“I don’t know, it could have been fun…” Kepler paused, trying to think of something to add that _wasn’t_ ridiculous or sappy.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean - I didn’t mean that I was dreading going with _you_ -”

Kepler laughed, “I should hope not! I wouldn’t like to think you’d agreed even though you hated my company.”

Jacobi shook his head, kicking at stones on the road so he wouldn’t have to meet Kepler’s gaze. “Of course I don’t. I mean, _that_ bit I was looking forward to. It’s just the whole… party… _pureblood…_ thing. I’m not even dressed right, am I?”

He looked him over, “You look great.” The clothes didn’t have the tailored fit that most of the guests at the ball would be looking for, but the waistcoat was… “Yes. Definitely great.”

“Charity shop chic,” Jacobi grinned, and then remembered that Kepler probably wouldn’t even know what a charity shop was. “Uh, you look good too. I mean - oh, who am I kidding, you look amazing. It’s ridiculous. I almost hate you a bit for it.” Kepler had turned up at his door in a stunning emerald-green suit, cut to perfection, with a crisp white shirt and black tie. It had taken Jacobi several moments to remember how to say hello.

“Just as well we’re running late then. This way, we’ll get to make an _entrance_ ,” Kepler grinned. “The three of us together will knock Miranda Pryce’s guests deader than an Unforgivable.”

“For more reasons than one,” Jacobi said wryly. “Uh. Since we’re running late, and we’re alone _,_ ” he continued, and stopped walking for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

Was this it? Kepler felt his stomach twist in something he would _never_ compare to anxiety. “Sure.” He hoped his answer was light, careless.

_Fuck._ Here went nothing. “Is this a date, or what?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Uh.” Jacobi blinked for a moment. “Yeah, obviously.”

Kepler gave him a blinding smile, and took his hand, “Well then-”

“Guys!” They turned to see Alana stomping up the path. “I’ve sorted the car, and it’s _freezing_ out here. Can we please get going?”

“ _Alana,_ ” Jacobi hissed, and dropped Kepler’s hand. “Yes. _Fine_. Sure. We’re right behind you.” As soon as she’d turned her back, he grabbed Kepler’s hand again, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “To be continued?”

Kepler was still smiling. “Definitely.” There would be plenty of space at the Pryce manor for a more interesting private conversation this evening.

*

“She’s not coming, is she?” Hera sunk into a nearby chaise lounge, holding her chin in her hands.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You said Kepler was giving her a lift and he’s not here yet either,” Eiffel nudged her until she moved up enough for him to sit down. “You know that Mr Perfect Head Boy wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this to show off. They’re probably just running late.” _Very_ late. If they didn’t get here soon, there wouldn’t be time for all his enchanted-mistletoe-related schemes.

Hera adjusted her cloak mournfully, having still not found the courage to take it off yet. “They’re _really_ late. This was such a bad idea.”

He ruffled her hair gently. “This was a _great_ idea, and you’re going to have a great time with Maxwell, once she gets here.” Even if he had to disrupt the entire ball to make it happen. “Come on, Hera, are you really going to flop around on the couch like a Fainting Fancy victim all night?”

“ _Yes!_ This is a _disaster._ ”

“No, this is an _inconvenience._ A _disaster_ will be if Minkowski gets drunk enough to start singing showtunes.” He regretted ever introducing the Gryffindor to the concept of musical theatre. He tugged at Hera’s arm. “Come on, let’s get back into the Hall before your mother accuses me of having ‘designs’ on you again. At least that way you’ll be in the best possible position to see Maxwell when she shows up.”

Hera reluctantly smiled. “Did I tell you that she _expressly forbade_ me from having you in my room? Girls only. Those were her exact words, girls only. I nearly _died._ ”

Eiffel snorted, “Wow, she really knows _nothing_ about you. You think Rhea’s friends will have snuck off to drink yet? We could go find them. Or try and get Minkowski and Lovelace stuck under the mistletoe.” He was teasing, but it helped a little.

“Mace and Kuan would definitely slip us alcohol if we asked. Come on, then,” she sighed, getting up. “Can’t wait around here all night - “

She stopped dead as the cloakroom door opened and the three latecomers arrived.

“Hi,” Alana said, standing awkwardly between the two boys. “I’m sorry we’re late. Car trouble.” She was blushing, she could feel it.

So was Hera. Alana’s dress fell to her knees and the sleeves came to her elbows, but for all its comparative modesty, Hera was stunned. It was deep, Ravenclaw blue, drawing out the gold in her skin and the bronze in her hair, and its full skirts swayed gently as she bobbed on her toes, discomforted.

Hera held out a hand as if dreaming, ignoring Jacobi and Kepler completely, who exchanged a knowing glance over Alana’s head. “It’s nothing. You look… lovely.” Lovely was an understatement. “I… I’m not ready just yet, but Eiffel will show you all into the ballroom, right?” She elbowed him hard enough to startle an agreement out of him, and ducked quickly out of the room and up the back staircase. Damn it, she’d planned an _entrance_ and so of course Alana had seen her before she was properly ready.

“Is, is she okay?” Alana asked Eiffel, chewing on her bottom lip.

Eiffel shook his head with a smile, “She’s fine, she was just anxious about you arriving and forgot that she’d planned to make an entrance when you got here. Follow me, she’ll be down soon.” He led them out into the glittering ballroom. Jacobi looked uncomfortable already. Alana’s eyes darted around as though looking for an escape route. Kepler, of course, looked perfectly at home. Eiffel carefully steered them to an empty spot with the best view of the stairs, and nodded to the top of them. “Keep watching up there.” If he had no other talents, he could at least help Hera stage the perfect scene in front of her crush.

At the top of the stairs, just out of sight, Hera took a deep breath. She’d shed her cloak and thrown it in the direction of her bedroom before running back to the stairs, and she took a moment to compose herself. Her shiny white hair, more silvery than Rhea’s or her mother’s, was gathered into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, and her bangs framed her big silver eyes. Her mother’s old-fashioned dress robes had been dramatically shortened, and the cape removed. It was now a short, superbly sparkly cocktail dress, that faded from light bronze to dark blue as the glitter travelled down her body. She’d teamed it with heels borrowed from Rhea’s wardrobe to give her some height; although now she was facing the ballroom staircase, she was no longer sure about them. Or anything.

She took another deep breath, and took her first, slightly stumbling step.

Alana stood, frozen to the spot, watching her descend the steps, her dress reflecting the candlelight and casting a thousand stars around the room as she moved. She’d known Hera was part-Veela, of course, everyone did, but for the first time, she could see her _shine._ She wondered why the entire room wasn’t turning to look at her, like flowers turned to face the sun. Sure, she swayed slightly in her unsteady heels, but that meant nothing to Alana, waiting at the foot of the stairs. As Hera reached the final few steps, she held out her hand to steady her.

“You look… beautiful.” There should have been a better word than beautiful for this moment. It was like the opposite of making eye contact. She never wanted to look away.

Hera willed herself not to be shy for once in her life and took Alana’s hand, grateful for the support. “Thank you. Would you - would you like to dance with me, if you’re not already taken?”

“I would _love_ to.” It didn’t matter that she’d never danced before, that Hera was clearly in no position to teach her in those heels. Touching Hera would be like touching starlight itself. “Shall we?”

All those childhood dance and elocution lessons had to be good for _something_ , Hera reflected. Feeling a little steadier on her heels, she lead Alana into hold just as the band faded out and struck up a pretty waltz. “Would you like to lead, or shall I?”

“Could you? I’ve never really danced before.” She’d never previously thought dancing would be any use at all. She was regretting that now.

“Of course. Just follow me, okay? Mother had me take lessons for _years_.” She looked around nervously as they started, but Miranda Pryce didn’t seem to be in the main ballroom at that moment. They had time. She lead Alana into a simple three-step, giggling slightly as she maneuvered in the ridiculous heels. “These _might_ have been a mistake,” she admitted. “I got caught up in the whole… makeover thing.”

“They’re pretty, but…” Alana could feel herself blushing even more, “you’ve never needed a makeover.”

Hera almost stopped dancing. “That’s sweet of you to say,” she managed to say, concentrating on her footwork. “You should have seen the dress robes mother sent me to wear.”

“If they didn’t look good on you, it was the robes that had the problem.” Hera looked good in _everything,_ at least in Alana’s opinion.

Hera smiled. “I’m really glad you came, Alana.”

“So am I.” Alana _hated_ parties, but seeing Hera like this… it was worth the social exhaustion.

“If you get tired of all the noise, we can go into the gardens,” Hera promised. “There are fires out, so it won’t be cold. I want you to be comfortable.” She herself had rarely felt comfortable in the manor, but she was sure it “could be done. “Just say the word, okay?”

Alana could have kissed her. “You’re… amazing, Hera.”

Hera was sure she was blushing. “I may have to escape that way if my mother sees me, so really, you’d be doing me a favour.”

Alana grinned. “We can run off and hide from her soon. But one more dance first?”

Hera returned the smile. “I’d like that.”

*

Rhea collapsed onto the bench beside the firepit with a groan. “OK, someone _better_ have brought me alcohol,” she complained, leaning her head against Lambert’s arm.

“No fear,” Fisher said, drawing out a hip flask from his inside jacket pocket and passing it to her. “Self-refilling. Knock yourself out.”

“I intend to.” She took a long swig. “What have you lot been up to while you’ve been hiding out here?”

Hui opened his mouth to answer first, but Lovelace stopped him with an imperious finger. “Wait, wait, I want to guess. Stargazing?”

“It’s not _stargazing_ ,” he protested, “it’s careful and precise observation of celestial anomalies, and… well, yes. A bit.”

“Are you two planning to move into the Astronomy Tower after we graduate?” Fisher asked, trying to recover his flask from Rhea, who clung to it with a glare. “It’s not like you don’t basically live there already.”

“Of course not,” Victoire scoffed.

“They already said no,” Kuan muttered.

“Victoire,” Rhea interrupted, gesturing at their circle of friends with the hand that wasn’t clutching the Firewhiskey. “You did an _excellent_ job of dressing the boys. And you and Lovelace, of course.”

Victoire preened, and smoothed down the folds of her tulip-skirted periwinkle blue dress. “You’d have thought I was torturing them, the way they all complained. But they do clean up nicely, don’t they? Even Kuan,” she teased, and poked him lightly. He wore a dark blue tang suit, with a Mandarin collar and gold-edged cuffs, and he rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly. Fisher had been much more compliant. She’d picked out a classic suit with suspenders and a tie for him, and he’d added a hat and a boutonnière. Lambert… had been an entirely different struggle. “I take no responsibility for the tartan.”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “Tch, he’s worn worse.” She looked between the two girls. “How on _earth_ did you get Lovelace into that dress? That bodice looks _corseted._ Tell us, Isabel, did she torture you?”

“Didn’t need to,” Lovelace said, smirking. “I look hot. I’m fine with that. And hey, I’m always willing to show some house pride: my dorm-mate’s even wearing red, so we’ve got the whole crest covered.”

“Yes, and don’t you look _fantastic_ together?” Fisher grinned, “You sure there were no ulterior motives there, captain?”

Lovelace glared at him, and took the flask from Rhea to take a swig. “I don’t know _what_ you mean.”

“Sure you don’t. Is that why you’re repeating sixth year?” Hui teased, ignoring the dagger-glare Lovelace shot at him. “Come on, I know you’re not going to kill me. Not in that dress anyway. Victoire would never forgive you.”

“He’s got a point,” Victoire added.

Lovelace looked deeply unimpressed. “I’m repeating sixth- wait, no, I’m not _repeating_ sixth year, I’m taking it for _the first time._ Because I spent _your_ sixth year fighting for my life in the Forest. Trust me, if I could get out of this mess and stay with you guys instead of being stuck with the kids, I would have already.”

“Cheer up, Is.” Rhea was already beginning to mumble. “Least you get to spend more time at Hogwarts. I’ve no idea what I’m doing next year.”

“Me neither,” Fisher sighed. “Crikey, it’s not far off, is it? The end of term?”

“Ugh, what a thought.” Victoire flopped back to form a dramatic tableau of despair. “I don’t suppose Beauxbatons would have me back for their eighth year?”

“And abandon us for France?” Kuan said, almost pouting. “So _cold_ , Victoire.”

“You could come with me? There are magical _universities_ on the continent.” She sighed, mournfully. “And I _bet_ they won’t accept my NEWTs as a valid transcript, so I guess you’re all stuck with me.”

Lovelace stayed quiet. The thought of her friends moving on, graduating Hogwarts, leaving her behind… She took another swig of whiskey, and passed it on. “What about you, Sam?”

Sam started at the mention of his name, having been busy staring adoringly down at Rhea, who was sleepily resting on his shoulder. “Uh,” he said. “I want to focus on NEWTs before I make a decision. I was thinking of applying to the Ministry,” he said, already sounding a little defensive.

“Of course you were.” Lovelace ruffled his hair, “Ever the sensible one, right, Sam?” She looked past him to the girl on his other side. “Is Rhea even still awake?”

Rhea hummed something unintelligible into Lambert’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. He chuckled, and pulled his discarded cloak around her shoulders. “She says she’s still awake for now, but she should probably slow down on the whiskey. Good idea,” he added.

Victoire rolled her eyes, “How do you even understand her when she gets like this? I swear there are first-years who can handle their alcohol better.”

“You’ve just got to learn her language,” Lambert said fondly, and then looked sheepish as he realised how close they were being in front of the others. “And, you know, context clues, practice…”

They heard running from the direction of the house, and Rhea’s sister sprinted into the circle of firelight, saved from falling into the fire pit only by Fisher grabbing her.

“Slow down, young one,” he said fondly, gently pulling her back and away from the flames to sit with them.

“Hera?” Victoire said, “Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party with your friend?” Hera and her date had looked very cosy when they’d left the ballroom.

Hera sighed, and flung the shoes she’d been carrying down on the floor as she sat next to Fisher. “I had to run away from Mother. I really thought she might _hex_ me, this time. Hello, everyone.”

Rhea mumbled something, and Lambert translated: “She says to tell us about it and she’ll see if she can get you out of it when she’s sobered up a bit. I don’t know how much help we can be, but we can try our best. Or hide you if she comes our way.”

“Hide me,” Hera agreed. She was pleased to see them: years of holidays and Quidditch matches had left her very comfortable with Rhea’s friends. She could let her guard down around them, just a little, and not mind being ‘Rhea’s little sister’. “It’s the dress,” she explained to the group. “We sort of… altered it. A _lot_.”

“Rhea can probably put it back as it was,” Lambert said, attempting to sound comforting. “She’s good with spells like that.” Rhea beeped an agreement without opening her eyes.

Victoire frowned, “Won’t your friend be looking for you? Where did you leave her?”

Hera shook her head sadly. “She’s with her friend Jacobi, and Kepler. You know - the Head Boy. I didn’t want Mother seeing her and thinking she was involved.”

Hui looked confused. “Your friend didn’t arrive until well into the party. Even your mother couldn’t accuse her of altering a dress you were already wearing. _Rhea_ could, but that’s because Rhea’s a genius at spells like that.”

Hera squirmed a little. “Okay, maybe I directed her away so she wouldn’t see mother’s crazy outburst. I don’t want her thinking I’m any weirder than she probably already does.”

Fisher handed her the flask. “I doubt she thinks you’re weird, little one. She did agree to come to the party, and everyone knows how… unaccepting your mother can be.”

“Should we really be giving the sixth-year - Oh, too late,” Victoire sighed. “Honestly, Mace.”

“Have you _met_ Lady Miranda? Kid deserves a drink if she’s been putting up with her,” Hui argued, though he began to look as concerned as Fourier when Hera didn’t put the flask down.

“Thank you, Kuan,” Hera said as she finished a large gulp, gasping slightly. “You’re my f-favourite.”

“Feeling braver?” Fisher asked, “You’re going to need to go back in there eventually, if only to rescue your friend.”

“Maybe after another sip…”

Lambert shook his head, leaning over to gently take the flask out of her hands. “I think you’ve had enough there.” He glared at Fisher and Hui, while Rhea gave a disgruntled beep at the shoulder she’d been leaning on suddenly moving away. “You don’t want to go back in there speaking Beep.” He nodded to her slightly-more-awake older sister.

“I don’t speak beep,” Hera said, almost but not quite glaring as she made grabby hands towards the flask, then gave up. “I don’t want to go back in there. Do you think it’s safe? Does anyone have a cloak I can hide this dress with?”

The only one still wearing a cloak was Lambert, who’s offering may have lived a past life as a picnic blanket. Hera, raised with perfect manners, accepted it graciously, and then grimaced at Victoire.

The French girl shrugged as if to say ‘we did our best.’ Rhea smiled sleepily at the sight of her sister trying to conceal her handiwork, but said nothing.

Hera tied the cloak around her shoulders, and took a deep, fortifying breath. “Wish me luck?”

“Good luck!” they chorused, Lovelace adding: “You won’t need it. Tell Minkowski we’re out here if you run into her?”

“Oh, tell _Minkowski,_ eh?” Hui joked, elbowing her.

She glared at him. “You know, there’s a firepit right there. It would _not_ be wise to bait me into shoving you into it.”

“I’ll tell her,” Hera said, pacifying. She swooshed her cloak around her, and with a sigh, left the group.

Hui immediately turned back to Lovelace, “So, about _Minkowski-_ ”

“Quit while you can,” she growled, although the effect was lessened somewhat by her floaty dress.

“It’s nice that you’ve made a friend out of this mess, at least,” Fourier said brightly, with a sharp look at Kuan.

“She’s all right,” Lovelace agreed. “Needs to loosen up a bit, though,” she added, in case anyone read her tone as affectionate.

“Of course, Miss ‘Never tell a girl you like her’ Lovelace.” Hui nearly fell off the log ducking to avoid her Hex, and Fisher had to get up to stand between them.

“Play nice, it’s Christmas!” he scolded them. “Kuan, stop winding her up, Isabel, maybe Minkowski isn’t the only one who needs to loosen up.”

Isabel scoffed, but sheathed her wand and smoothed down her dress. “I’m going to find some drinks that aren’t cheap whiskey. Champagne, anyone? I’m sure I saw a full table somewhere outside the ballroom.”

Fourier grinned. “Bring back enough for the rest of the class!”

“Of course,” Lovelace winked, and slipping her golden heels back on, left in the direction of the ballroom.

She’d successfully found the table of drinks and was discreetly lifting a tray of champagne flutes from it when she heard someone approach her from behind.

“Need any help with that?” It was Minkowski. “I mean, as a Prefect I really shouldn’t be encouraging this, but I’m not exactly on duty right now.” She delicately tapped the glasses with her wand, magically adhering them to the tray.

“My hero,” Lovelace joked. “Thanks. Want one?” She turned around and leaned forward to pass a flute to her, but oddly, found that her feet wouldn’t move more than a few steps. “Is my shoe stuck in something?”

Minkowski looked around at the currently-empty room, then up at the rafters. “Oh, _shit,_ ” she cursed.

“What?” Lovelace followed her gaze, uncomprehending.

“Eiffel’s mistletoe,” she said, pointing directly above them. “I thought I’d caught it all, but _apparently_ he’s better at hiding them than I thought. Looks like we’re stuck.”

“... _Stuck?”_ Her tone was dangerous as she looked back at Renée.

“It was his idea of ‘spreading Christmas cheer’. He worked out how to charm mistletoe so that any two people with… particular qualities would be stuck under it unless they kissed.” She was blushing almost as red as her dress.

“Oh, for the love of..” Lovelace put the tray down with a slight crash and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I will _strangle_ him.”

“I’ll help you, if we can work out how to get out of this first,” Minkowski agreed. “ _Particularly_ if none of my friends find out about this.”

“What do you mean ‘how’? We already know _how,_ ” Lovelace said, frowning.

“I know, but…” _There has to be another way. One that doesn’t involve kissing my roommate._

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re seventeen, surely you’ve _kissed_ someone before. Or is it the idea of kissing _me_ that’s so horrifying?“

“One, yes, I’ve kissed people before, two, no, it’s not _horrifying._ ” _It’s just that I’ve had a crush on you since second year and it really doesn’t need any fuel._

Lovelace stood there, hands on her hips. Challenging. Radiant. “So kiss me.”

This was _not_ how she’d wanted this evening to go. But: “ _Fine._ ” She closed the small distance between them, and pulled Isabel down into a quick, fierce kiss. It was, unfortunately, _exactly_ as perfect as she’d imagined, and it was with difficulty that she drew herself back. “Happy now?” She wasn’t sure whether the question was addressed to Isabel or the mistletoe.

Isabel stood there, blinking, like she’d been dazzled with light. Slowly, experimentally, she moved her foot and stepped forward, then stepped two steps back. “Yeah. I - I have to go now.”

“...Right. You do that.” There should have been _something_ she could have said that didn’t make her sound like an idiot, but that kiss had driven the words out of her head.

“Bye,” Isabel blurted out, and without remembering her champagne, practically ran from the hall.

Minkowski, left behind, covered her mouth with one hand. “Well, _that_ went well,” she muttered, grabbing her own glass of champagne. Hopefully, there’d be somewhere quiet outside to sulk about this. Somewhere far away from Lovelace, or Eiffel.

*

“Wait wait wait, hold on.” Jacobi drew back to catch his breath. Not that he wasn’t _enjoying_ straddling the Head Boy’s lap in a - “where are we, a broom closet?” - but he had the feeling that they needed to have a serious talk, preferably before someone burst in on them.

“Does it matter?” Kepler, for once, was equally breathless. “It’s a party, I doubt anyone will be looking for us in here.”

“Have you _met_ my roommate?” Daniel joked. “But, seriously…”

“Seriously? Are you not having fun?” His tone was teasing.

“Tons,” Jacobi smiled, almost bashfully. “But, uh... Is this a good idea? There are… a _lot_ of odds stacked against us.”

“So?” he grinned, “You’ve never cared about the odds before.”

“I’ve sort of been trying to ignore them,” Daniel admitted. “I never actually expected this to _happen,_ so I didn’t have to think about all the consequences. Like… Oh, ignore me,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief at himself.

Kepler caught his face in one hand, “Tell me?”

“God, where to start? You’re leaving school soon, and I’m not. Your House will crucify you. Cutter will be furious. My dad will - actually,” he continued, and wrinkled his nose, ”my dad would probably throw a fucking parade if he caught me with a _boy,_ but that’s a whole different issue.”

“My House aren’t stupid enough to piss off a student with the power to give them detentions, and Rachel won’t care. Cutter can’t take Head Boy away from me and I could care less about anything else he could do. And your parents…” he shrugged, “we’ll deal with them when we have to.”

Jacobi ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, away from him. “You know how _incredibly_ complicated that will be for you? Dating the magic, trans kid of religious Muggle parents? It’s just - look, I don’t need anything more than this, right here. You don’t have to commit to the whole messy _public_ aspect and let it bring you down. I can be your secret,” he said, smiling like it was a gift.

He hooked his hands around the back of Jacobi’s neck, drawing him close. “What if I don’t _want_ you to be a secret?” he murmured, breathing almost-kisses along the line of his throat. “What if I want you to be _mine?_ ”

The word sent a shiver through him, and although he had a thousand more objections that he felt were all in Kepler’s best interest, he couldn’t bring himself to voice any more of them. “You know, I could work with that,” Daniel said, a familiar grin beginning to take over the shy smile on his face.

“Glad to hear it,” Kepler purred, and he could _feel_ rather than see his smirk. “Now, do you really want to waste this _lovely_ evening with more talking?”

There was no more conversation in the broom closet for quite a while after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the Yule Ball; next up, we give you Christmas in August. Thanks for reading!


	7. christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the ball. Also; midnight mass, stargazing, sober-up potions, and no magic in church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for queerphobic and ableist comments from some of our characters' parents in this chapter.

The last of the guests who’d spent the night had finally left (including Eiffel, who’d finally escaped the cupboard someone had locked him in), and the Pryce sisters leant against each other, matching circles under their grey eyes.

“I want to sleep _forever,_ ” Rhea muttered to her sister. But Christmas Day in the Pryce manor was not an affair to be slept through, and the girls gave an exhausted sigh as they heard their mother’s footsteps behind them.

Miranda Pryce did not look even a little tired. “Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” she said, with satisfaction. “And I’m glad to see you _could_ return your sister’s robes to their original state, Rhea.”

Rhea barely remembered doing it. “Yes, mother,” she said dutifully.

“And the young people managed to behave surprisingly creditably, given their upbringing,” she sniffed, “Though Cutter’s little protege managed to embarrass both of us, bringing that Hufflepuff.”

“Jacobi is my friend,” Hera pointed out quietly.

Miranda pursed her lips. “ _Another_ unsuitable friend, Hera?” She sighed. “I suppose I can’t expect any better of either of you, really.”

Hera, who already knew she was in deep trouble for the dress-and-heels incident, jut out her chin defiantly. “If the _Head Boy_ likes him, then how can he be unsuitable?”

Miranda tutted, “Must I explain _everything_ to you, Hera? I’m starting to question how _either_ of my daughters ended up in Ravenclaw.” She looked at Rhea. “Especially since your sister apparently shouldn’t be trusted to take her drinks from the adults’ table.”

“I’m an adult,” Rhea protested, frowning before realising it made her headache worse.

“I have my doubts about that, darling, after that little stunt you pulled. Defacing a family heirloom so Hera could walk in dressed like a Muggle slut.” Her eyes flicked between the two girls, clearly waiting for one of them to cave in and apologise.

Rhea, despite her hangover, stepped up as Hera went pale. “Don’t call her that. All the girls wear Muggle fashions now, did you want her to feel left out _again?_ ”

“Rhea,” Hera whispered, tugging at her sleeve, but her mother got there first.

“ _Rhea._ ” Her voice and eyes were ice. “I think you should go to your bedroom. Now. You’re _clearly_ not in a fit state to act your age.”

“And leave you and Hera alone so you can bully her some more? I think not,” Rhea answered, folding her arms. “I’m eighteen, you can’t send me to my room.”

“ _Rhea._ ” Miranda’s foot began to tap, a sure sign she was close to losing her temper. “You are my daughter, and in my home, you will obey my rules. Is. That. Clear?”

“Not when your rules are _archaic_ and are making both your daughters miserable. Why _shouldn’t_ Hera have Muggleborn friends? You used to complain that she didn’t have friends at all!”

Hera paled into the background as her mother and sister faced each other down. “ _Appropriate_ friends,” Miranda corrected. “Merlin knows I’ve introduced you both to plenty of them, and yet you _persist_ in this ridiculous rebellion!”

“You only think it’s rebellion because you think everything is about you!” Rhea retorted, stamping her foot. “I have friends who aren’t society _pets_ that _love_ me, I have a boyfriend who loves me, and none of them are Pureblood _snobs_ -” she stopped suddenly, and clapped a hand to her mouth.

“You have a _what._ ” It wasn’t phrased as a question. “Rhea. You have a _boyfriend?_ ”

Rhea brought her hand down slowly. “Oh, hell. Yes. I have a boyfriend.” She threw an apologetic glance at Hera. _At least she’ll stop talking about the dress now,_ she tried to convey through her eyes and a bit lip.

“When did this happen?” The words dropped from Miranda’s lips as though she was spitting perfect shards of cut glass.

“Last summer,” Rhea said. “August.”

“And you failed to mention him because?”

“Because he’s _mine,_ not a Pryce family cut-out to be paraded around and interrogated. Because I knew you’d react like this. Because it was _fun._ Take your pick,” Rhea sniffed, wishing she’d had the presence of mind to take some sober-up potion before confronting her mother for the first time in years.

“Why do you girls make such a _tragedy_ of everything?”

“We learned from the best,” Rhea replied sullenly.

Miranda folded her arms. “I bore you and I raised you, I gave you the _world,_ and this is how you choose to repay me? Get out.”

Rhea blinked. It had been a long time since her mother had actually _shocked_ her. “What?”

“Mother,” Hera said at the exact same time, her silver eyes wide and wet.

“You can stay in this house as my daughter, and act like my daughter, like a _Pryce,_ or you can run away and enjoy your little rebellion while it lasts, but I will _not_ tolerate this any longer.” She didn’t even raise her voice. It was as if she didn’t think she needed to.

“ _Maman,_ ” Hera gasped, running forward to separate them. “Please, you’re both just tired, she didn’t mean it, it’s _Christmas_ -”

“Stay out of this, Hera. I’ll deal with you later.” She didn’t even look away from Rhea as she swatted her younger daughter aside. “Well, Rhea?”

“You don’t even know who he _is,_ ” Rhea protested.

“I know if he was suitable, you would have told me sooner.”

“Shows how well you know me. _Fine._ Hera,” she said, scooping her sister backwards and away from her mother for a quick hug, “I’m sorry. I’ll see you at school. Don’t let her bully you, all right? You’re stronger than you think.”

Hera didn’t _feel_ strong as she watched her sister apparate away. She felt small and alone and lost, and before Miranda could turn back to her she fled to her room.

*

“I have a _boyfriend,_ ” Jacobi whispered gleefully on the pew next to Maxwell on Christmas morning.

Alana stared up at him, exhaustion clear on her face. “I _know._ I was _there._ I drove home with you two making eyes at each other. It is _eight in the AM._ ”

“I have a boyfriend,” he replied, poking his tongue out at her.

She elbowed him, “Do you have to be so _smug_ about it? I _still_ haven’t gotten my money off Eiffel.”

“ _Yes,_ ” he whispered back, grinning. “I have to be smug, I’m in _church._ You hear that, God? I’m a _gay wizard,_ and I skipped midnight mass, and did I mention that I have a boyfriend now?”

“You know three of those four things are true of both of us, right?” She rolled her eyes.

“Are you a wizard now? I support you,” he said solemnly, before grinning manically again. “How mad were your parents when you got home at… God, three hours ago? Dad was _furious._ ”

She wrinkled her nose, “They were _happy._ I think they believe going to a party means I’m going to stop being weird at some point.”

“I think going to a Pryce and Carter party makes you _weirder._ ”

“No, because it’s _socialising_ like a nice, normal, _neurotypical_ daughter,” she drawled, and received a glare from her mother. Their parents had long given up trying to stop them talking in church, but that didn’t make it safe to talk above a whisper.

“So you didn’t get in trouble?” Jacobi asked, frowning over at Maxwell’s mother in return. “ _Ugh._ That’s not fair.”

“If it makes you feel any better, they asked if I met any nice _boys_ ,” she said, with a smirk.

“I met a nice boy,” Jacobi countered, because he could. “I’m also grounded for the entire holiday, but, _worth it._ ”

“ _Grounded?_ ” She looked outraged, “How am I meant to survive the Boxing Day Dinner if you’re _grounded?_ ”

“Sorry, pumpkin. Text me. He’ll probably forget all about it in a few days and want me out of the house anyway.” The grin returned to his face. “Or if I tell mum I’ve got a _boyfriend_ she might let me off the hook.”

“Are you going to keep saying that for the rest of the year? Because if so, I’m going to find out how to get headphones to work in Hogwarts.”

“ _Yes._ Until he gets sick of me. God, I’m going to have to get an owl, aren’t I? There’s no way he’s getting a phone. I don’t have anywhere to keep an owl. Is he still going on?” he added, nodding at the priest. “We get it, Jesus is born. We’ve stuck candles in oranges and watched the stupid primary school nativity play. _Enough already._ ”

“You know how long it goes on for. I would’ve brought a book if we hadn’t been up so late last night.” She leant her head back against the pew with a sigh. “And I _still_ don’t know if Hera likes me back!”

“Alana, she _danced_ with you. In front of _everyone._ For Hera, that’s a huge move.”

“Yes, but…” She wriggled in her seat. “I don’t know. Lovelace and Minkowski danced together for a bit, did you see them? And _they_ aren’t dating.”

“That we know of,” Jacobi pointed out. “She wore that dress for you. Did you see her mother’s face?”

“She wore a dress, she didn’t wear it _for me,_ ” she argued, “but her mum looked like she was going to _explode._ Can half-Veela go all feathery? I think she would have if she could.”

“Dunno. Hope Hera’s not in too much trouble. She totally wore it for you though, she made that grand entrance and everything.”

“It was a _good_ entrance,” Alana agreed, dreamily. Hera had floated down the stairs as easily as a princess in a fairytale, dress glittering as though it was made of stars. She could barely believe she was _real,_ let alone that she’d wanted to dance with _Alana._

Jacobi poked her, looking every bit the fond older brother. “Oh, you’ve got it _bad._ ”

“Ugh, shut up. Not all of us can be as _disgustingly_ happy as you,” she retorted, somehow managing to combine grumpiness with affection.

He bumped her shoulder gently, then looked back at the altar as the priest stopped speaking. “Oh shit, Amen,” he chorused with the rest of the congregation, a few seconds late. “Is it over? Can we go home and sleep now?”

“ _You_ can,” she grumbled. “ _I_ have to be ‘part of the family.’ Because apparently family requires mandatory socialising. Which, by the way, _isn’t_ in the Family Rulebook.”

“You poor thing. I am going to do the mandatory Christmas breakfast and presents and then go the hell to _bed._ ” People started to shuffle around them, getting up and shaking hands. “Parents incoming,” he warned.

“Ugh, hide me?” But it was too late. Both sets of parents swept down on them like an oncoming storm.

“Alana, dear,” Claire Jacobi said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs Jacobi,” Alana replied, and her mother frowned.

“Remember it’s polite to _look_ at people when you’re talking to them, darling,” she said, voice overbright.

Mrs Jacobi waved the comment aside. “Oh, it’s quite all right. You look as tired as our Daniel. Coming home in the early hours of the morning like you think you’re eighteen already,” she scolded lovingly.

“Wizards come of age at seventeen,” Jacobi said sullenly, just to see the look on everyone’s faces when the W-word was spoken. His father turned an interesting but predictable shade of red.

 _“No magic in church,_ ” he hissed.

A malevolent gleam appeared in Alana’s eyes, “Why not?” she asked, innocently. “I’m sure God knows all about it already.”

“Omniscient, and all that,” Daniel agreed.

“How long do you want to be grounded _for,_ exactly?” Roy Jacobi threatened, glaring at his son and getting an equally irritated glare back.

Alana’s father clapped him on the shoulder in an attempt to break the tension, “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, he was keeping an eye on our little girl at the party last night.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she looked to Jacobi helplessly.

“I wish someone had been there to keep an eye on _my_ little girl,” Roy Jacobi muttered.

“No transphobia in church,” Daniel replied immediately, mimicking him.

“Not now, you two,” his mother sighed. “Thomas, Delia, I’m sorry about my boys.”

“Oh, nothing to apologise for, all families have their problems,” Alana’s mother replied, still in the overbright tones of the Harassed Mother Of A Special-Needs Child. “We should probably get Alana home now, you know how she can be when she’s tired.”

“I _can_ talk for myself, Mum,” she muttered, not looking at her. “I’m not two.”

“Don’t make a scene, darling. Say goodbye to our friends now?” Delia prompted her, and Alana gave a very dramatic eyeroll.

“Goodbye, Mr and Mrs Jacobi. Bye Daniel. Merry Christmas,” she said, mechanically, then surprised Jacobi by grabbing him for a quick hug. “I won’t kill anyone if you don’t,” she whispered in his ear.

“No promises,” he whispered back, squeezing tight. “Text me?”

“If they don’t take my phone,” she said, darkly, then drew away. “See you all on Boxing Day?” she asked his parents, with a wide smile.

“Of course,” Claire said smoothly, silencing her husband with a _look_ as he opened his mouth to protest _._

Daniel grinned, and stood up to join his parents. “Bye, Mr and Mrs Maxwell. Have a _magical_ Christmas.”

“ _Daniel_ ,” his mother sighed, as his father stormed away.

“Worth it.”

*

“ _Rhea?_ ” She as the last person Sam had expected to find on his doorstep at Christmas, snow glittering in her white hair. He was equally unprepared for her to fling herself into his arms, beeping miserably.

“Rhea,” he said again more soothingly, petting her hair. “What happened?”

More beeping, which managed to convey that her mother had _not_ been happy about Hera’s dress, or Rhea’s decision to stand up for her sister.

“Oh, Merlin. Come in, you’re freezing.” He lead her inside, suddenly noticing how small and cluttered the little cottage he lived in with his father looked compared to the Pryce Manor.

“We have a guest?” His father looked up from the _Prophet_ ’s Christmas issue. “Rhea, isn’t it?” He got to his feet. “Poor girl, you look frozen! Sam, bring her in by the fire and I’ll put the kettle on.”

“I can do both,” Sam said, flicking his wand at the kettle and leading Rhea further in.

“Hello, Mr Lambert,” she burbled, wiping her eyes and waving. “I’m so sorry for intruding on you like this.”

“Nonsense, any friend of my son’s is welcome here,” he said, warmly. “I’ll get you a blanket. Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?”

“Tea,” Sam said decidedly, as Rhea had descended into beeps again by the fire. “Thanks, dad. She kicked you out?” he said, returning his attention back to Rhea. “Did I hear that right?”

She nodded. “She was _awful,_ ” she said, between beeps, “I mean, she’s always awful, but…”

“There, there,” he said, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You’re here now. There’s no way she’ll look for you here.”

“But she’s furious, and I left Hera _all alone,_ ” Rhea wailed.

Sam’s father re-entered with a cup of tea in one hand and a blanket in the other. “Here, drink up,” he told her, pressing the mug into her hands. “I’m sure your sister will be alright. I’ll make up the bed in the spare room.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed. “You’re so nice. Of _course_ you’re nice, you’re Sam’s dad.” She leaned against Sam’s shoulder, exhausted and sad and still hungover. “I told her about you,” she said quietly.

He froze for a moment, then returned to gently rubbing her back, “We’re - we’re telling people?”

“Yes. If you want to,” she murmured, nodding at his father’s turned back. “You were right before.”

“Oh.” He looked a little stunned. “Um - Dad?”

His father looked up from the stove, for once free of potions. “Yes, Sam?”

“Rhea-” He looked from her face to his father, as though not quite believing what he was about to say. “Rhea’s my girlfriend?”

His father looked away to hide a smile. “That’s - lovely to hear, Sam.” As if he hadn’t had six summers of ‘what Rhea says’ to prepare him for today.

“Yeah,” Sam said fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Rhea’s head. “It is.”

“She’s still sleeping in the spare room, though,” his father added

Lambert, scandalised: “ _Dad_!”

Rhea giggled through the tears. “Of course, Mr Lambert. Thank you for having me.”

“Any time, Rhea. And please, call me Will. We’re practically family now, after all,” he said, and returned to fixing Christmas lunch.

*

_Dear Hera,_

_Hope you and Rhea had a good Christmas with the Evil Queen.  Christmas in the Eiffel household was pretty boring, after the Ball. Did you have a good time with Alana? I mean, you must have, given that you didn’t notice SOMEONE had locked me in a cupboard for most of the night. Minkowski is refusing to give me any gossip, so you’re my only hope. Who kissed? Who danced together? Who was caught making out in one of the cupboards? Enquiring minds want to know!_

_Merry Christmas, Pryce!_

_Eiffel_

*

_Dear Hera,_

_Thanks again for the invite to the ball. I hope your mother wasn’t too horrendous afterwards. We just got back from dad’s ritual New Year’s Eve stargazing and I’m exhausted. I think they’re using it as an excuse to make sure I’m revising Astronomy, which of course I am._

_Eiffel said he wrote to you after the ball but hasn’t heard anything yet. Not that I don’t completely understand the need to ignore Eiffel once in awhile, but are you okay? Let me know._

_See you at school in two weeks._

_Renée_

*

_Hey Minkowski,_

_Hope you enjoyed the holidays, even if you still refuse to tell me what happened at the ball. Was it the mistletoe? I bet it was the mistletoe. Doesn’t matter, I’m sure I’ll get it out of you once we’re back at school._

_Has Hera written you at all? I haven’t heard from her all Christmas._

_Eiffel_

 


	8. spring term (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cutter shook his head, disappointed. “I was so proud of you, Warren. You’re one of the best representatives of my House I’ve seen in a very long time. I thought you’d know better than this.”

“Minkowski!” Eiffel yanked her out of the carriage corridor she’d been patrolling into his compartment. “Finally, _someone_ I can talk to! Have you seen Hera?”

“Hello to you too,” Minkowski said. “And no, I haven’t. I haven’t seen Rhea, either, but I haven’t been in Love - in her carriage yet.”

“Are you _hiding_ from Lovelace?” Eiffel’s eyes were gleaming,  but he shook himself. “No, that can wait, _where’s Hera?_ Have you heard from her at all? Do you think her mum pulled her out?”

“Of _Hogwarts?_ I can’t imagine she would,” Minkowski replied, worrying at her lip. “She never replied to my letters.”

“Mine neither…” He looked panicked, “Did something happen at the ball?”

“You didn’t hear? Her mother saw her dress and _flipped._ But there’s no way she’d pull Hera out of school just for _that,_ right?”

“Have you _seen_ her? There’s a reason I call her the Evil Queen!” He began pacing the compartment, “Do you think she’ll have sent her to Beauxbatons? Are we going to have to go to France and rescue her?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe she’s getting dropped off? Lady Pryce might just be visiting the headmaster for the start of term.” She rolled her eyes and put her hands on his shoulders. “Calm _down_ , Eiffel.”

“But it’s _Hera!_ ” He shrugged her hands off. “You’d be fine if someone just air-dropped you into the middle of Beauxbatons or even _Durmstrang,_ but-”

“Look, if we can’t find her at the feast, we’ll go straight to one of the teachers. Okay? But there’s nothing you can do right now, and working yourself into a state isn’t going to help.”

“ _How are you so calm about thi-_ Argh!” He cut himself off with a yelp as the train stopped and he promptly fell over. Minkowski had had the presence of mind to grab onto the seats and was trying not to laugh at him.

“Idiot. I’ve got to go lead the first years to the carriages. _Try_ not to explode before we get to the hall?”

“Ugh, _fine._ But keep an eye out for her, at least?”

“Of course. See you inside.”

Hera was nowhere to be seen when they reached the carriages, and Eiffel continued to worry about her all the way up to the castle. She wasn’t in the Entrance Hall either, but she was easy to spot during the Welcome Feast. The entirety of Ravenclaw House sat at the opposite end to the table from her, and  Eiffel couldn’t look at her directly, always a sign she was _very_ worried.

“All right?” came a voice, as Jacobi slid into the seat beside him at the Hufflepuff table.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. _Please_ tell me Maxwell heard from Hera over the holidays. Congratulations, by the way. I heard somebody has a boyfriend.”

Jacobi shook his head. “You know neither of us has an owl, and Hera’s house doesn’t have any Muggle technology.” He stopped and grinned, but fidgeted nervously. “Heh, a boyfriend… I think I do. I _hope_ I do. Slightly worried that I dreamed up the whole thing, I haven’t seen him yet.”

Eiffel tapped his shoulder and pointed, “You have now.” Kepler was approaching the Hufflepuff table with a smile that frankly _terrified_ Eiffel, but his dorm-mate didn’t seem to mind.

“Hi,” Jacobi said, smiling, but was interrupted from saying whatever he’d planned to next as Kepler bent down to give him a long kiss, in front of everyone, in lieu of a hello. “Oh,” he said as he was released, smiling even wider. “Missed you too.”

Eiffel glanced around the couple to the staff table. Cutter seemed to be crushing his goblet, and beside him, Miranda Pryce (what was _she_ doing there?) looked horrified.

“I did warn you I had no intention of keeping you a secret.” Kepler sounded amused and affectionate, and Eiffel decided that this was the perfect moment to check on Hera. The atmosphere around an anxious Veela couldn’t be worse than _this_.

“Well, you definitely can’t take it back now,” Jacobi laughed, relief flooding through him. “Get back to the Slytherins before Cutter _hexes_ you.”

“Because I’m _so_ scared of Cutter,” he teased, giving him another kiss before returning to the Slytherin table. As he left, Jacobi suddenly realised the whole of Hufflepuff House was staring at him.

“Well,” one of his housemates finally said, “That was… unexpected.”

Jacobi grinned at them. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“ _We know!_ ” Maxwell yelled from the next table. As Eiffel passed her, she grabbed his sleeve, and said, more quietly, “Are you checking on Hera? I tried, but I can’t even get close! Is she OK?”

Eiffel shook his head, “I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s _definitely_ not OK. Come on, I’ll show you the trick to getting close to her when she’s like this. Don’t look at her directly and don’t think too much about her.” He briskly approached the empty end of the table, Maxwell following his footsteps more slowly. “Hey,” he said, softly, when he finally reached her, “You weren’t on the train, what happened?”

“Mother brought me herself,” Hera said quietly, not looking at him, and _definitely_ not at the adults at the staff table.

“Why?” Lady Pryce had never seemed a particularly attentive parent in any area other than her daughters’ flaws. “Did something happen?”

Hera nodded morosely, still staring at the table. “Rhea _left._ I’ve been under house arrest ever since.”

“Oh, _Hera_.” He gave her a one-armed hug. “Have you seen Rhea yet?” He nodded to the other girl, currently over at the Gryffindor table with the rest of the Lovelace Administration.

Hera shook her head. “She tried, but Mother’s still here, and I - I told her to go away. I shouldn’t be talking to you either, or - “ she looked up, and her eyes widened. “Alana!”

“Hey.” The other Ravenclaw sat down on Hera’s other side. “Why shouldn’t you be talking to us?”

“You have no idea how angry she is,” Hera whispered, darting quick glances towards her mother’s seat to check that she wasn’t looking. “Since Rhea’s gone she’s been - just _terrible._ I couldn’t answer your letters. She thinks socialising with ‘unsuitable people’ is what caused everything to go wrong.”

“What went wrong? Everything seemed fine at the ball,” Alana said, frowning.

“Can I tell you _later?”_ Hera whispered more forcefully, at Eiffel, since she could hardly look at the other girl. “When she’s _gone_?”

“Sure.” Eiffel continued cutting up his food. “But I’m not going to let her bully you into eating alone just because she’s in the same room.”

“Eiffel…” She could see her mother watching, lips pursed, but it didn’t _look_ as if she was about to storm over to the Ravenclaw table.

“Come on, Hera, what can she do from the other side of the room?” he teased. “If she tried anything, the whole school would see it.”

“You underestimate just how crazy she is,” Hera muttered, but she didn’t ask him to leave again. She kept looking over at Rhea, too; happily enjoying her food with her friends. It wasn’t _fair._

“Hey,” Alana said from her other side. “It’ll be OK. She’ll go home after the feast and you won’t even have to look at her until summer if you don’t want to go home for Easter.”

“Sure,” Hera mumbled unconvincingly, and returned to pushing her food around her plate.

She could hear the voices of her sister’s friends echoing from the Gryffindor table.

“You two are _what?_ ” Hui looked from Rhea to Lambert as if waiting to hear they were playing a joke on him.

Victoire covered her mouth to conceal a laugh, “So how long have you been keeping this quiet?”

Lovelace, amused: “Lambert, how the hell did you pull _that_ off?”

“Shut up, you lot,” Fisher said. “Congratulations,” he said seriously to the couple, although he too looked a little shellshocked.

“ _Thank you,_ Mace,” Rhea said pointedly, and grabbed Sam’s hand under the table for support.

“But you two? _Really?_ ” Lovelace was grinning, “When did _that_ start? And why didn’t we hear about it?”

“Last summer,” Rhea replied.

“Because it was none of your business,” Lambert said simultaneously.

“None of our business? That’s what six years of friendship means to you? I’m crushed.” Victoire pressed a hand to her heart dramatically.

“So you’ve been living a lie for the past term?” Hui added, “That’s just _cruel._ ”

“ _This,_ ” Lambert said, gesturing with his free hand to his friends opposite. “This is why we didn’t tell you. How are you not focusing more on the fact that Rhea’s mother _kicked her out?_ ”

“Because Rhea’s mother has been walking the thin line of crazy since first year?” Fourier pointed out. “Besides, Rhea will do great, she’s got us to look after her. Especially _you._ ” She nudged Lambert with her elbow.

“He does do a very good job of that,” Rhea smiled, leaning her head on Sam’s shoulder to look up at him adoringly.

Lovelace slumped onto the table, shoving her plate away. “Ugh, you’ve only been officially dating for thirty seconds and it’s already _disgusting._ ”

“Spoken to Minkowski yet?” Lambert countered.

“Shut up.” She looked around to see if the other girl was nearby, but she was down the other end of the table pointedly not looking at their group. “You don’t get to tease me when you’ve been secretly dating for _months._ ”

“You’re just annoyed that I’ve got a girlfriend and you haven’t,” Lambert said primly, putting an arm around Rhea to emphasise his point. “Go talk to her.”

“Low blow, Sam,” she said, returning her head to the table.

Hui looked between the two of them. “OK, what happened with Minkowski she hasn’t told us about?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” Lambert said solemnly.

“ _Again?_ Seriously, we’re going to stop trusting you,” Victoire teased. “Not even a hint?”

“He won’t even tell _me_ ,” Rhea said, amused.

“But something _did_ happen?” she insisted. “You know, we could just ask the other party.” She called down the table. “Hey, Min-”

“ _Don’t you dare,_ ” Lovelace hissed, pressing a hand to Victoire’s mouth before she could finish her sentence.

“Spoilsport,” Hui muttered. “Is _everyone_ in this group keeping secrets now? Hey, Fourier, Fisher, we need our own super secret club without _these_ traitors.”

“Does this mean I have to start hanging out in the Astronomy Tower?” Fisher asked. “Because if so, hard pass.”

“The Astronomy Tower is the best hideout!” Victoire argued, escaping Lovelace’s grip. “Kuan, back me up here!”

“Of course,” Rhea mused, “if you _did_ start hanging out exclusively with these two, you might finally catch them in the act, as it were.”

“Oh, don’t start _that_ again,” Victoire laughed, at the same time that Kuan threw his hands up in the air.

“We’re not dating!”

“That’s what Rhea and Lambert said,” Lovelace pointed out.

“No we didn’t,” Lambert replied, “you never _asked.”_

“Because we foolishly trusted you to tell us!” Hui argued, “Trust me, if we start dating, you lot will be the first to know.”

“Oh, let it go, you know now. I have to go to a prefect’s meeting,” he said, gently disentangling himself from Rhea, “and you should go talk to your sister, princess.”

Fourier stared after him. “You two have _pet names?_ ” She shook her head in disbelief, “I never really knew either of you.”

“I’m a princess,” Rhea said smugly, while pointedly ignoring his comment about Hera. “Have fun, honey.” Lovelace made a gagging motion, and Rhea fixed her with a Pryce stare. “Keep that up and I’m going to give you hell when you finally ask Minkowski out.”

“Oh, you’re _hilarious._ Anyway _,_ if she’s going to a prefects meeting then I can go to bed,” Lovelace said, yawning. “Catch you all tomorrow.”

They all dispersed after that, and Rhea managed to catch up with her younger sister once they reached the Common Room.

“Hey, little bird,” she said, sitting down on the sofa beside her. “Are you holding up OK? I hope Mum wasn’t too awful after I left.”

“Fine,” Hera said primly, nose in a book. She drew further into herself on the sofa, taking up as little space as possible.

Rhea sighed. “You’re mad at me for leaving, aren’t you?”

“Don’t know what gave you that idea,” Hera muttered, not taking her eyes off the page.

“You know I would have taken you with me if I could,” she said, softly. “I wish I could have, you know that.”

“I don’t care that you didn’t take me with you!” Hera said, raising her voice slightly and closing the book with a _snap._ “I care that you didn’t come _back._ ”

Rhea blinked. “You know I can’t do that, right?”

“Stop telling me what I know! You could have come back, you could have _apologised_ and not left me there to deal with Mother _on my own_ for _three weeks_ -”

“Hera, she _warded the house against me._ It’s not that I _didn’t_ come back. I _couldn’t._ ”

It was Hera’s turn to blink in confusion. “She _what?_ ”

“She updated the wards. I couldn’t get back in there if I was willing to die trying, it-” She took a deep breath, tried to keep speaking: “It’s like the house doesn’t even exist for me any more.”

“Oh.” Hera shrank back, embarrassed. “She didn’t tell me that. I thought…”

“You thought what she wanted you to think.” Rhea wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I couldn’t even get an owl in there. I was so _worried_ about you.”

“I missed you so much,” Hera said, curling into her. “It was _awful._ ”

“I’m sorry, little bird,” she said, holding her close. “We’ll get you out of that cage soon. I’m finishing school this year anyway, I’ll find a job, get a flat, and get you away from her the moment you turn seventeen.”

“Okay,” Hera sniffed. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Rhea replied without hesitation. Sam would understand. That was her favourite thing about him. He always understood. “We’ll be back together before you know it.”

*

“Mr Kepler, a word before you return to your House.” Cutter had waylaid him after the prefects’ meeting, and he was clearly not happy.

Kepler stood to attention. “Sir?”

“I noticed your little… display at the Welcome Feast. Far be it from me to involve myself in my students’ personal lives, but do you really think this is the best decision?” His voice oozed false sympathy. “Between your duties as Head Boy and your NEWTS coming up in the summer, I would hate to see you _distracted_ from your studies.”

Kepler, unsurprised, chose to deliberately misinterpret him. “I’m aware that public displays of affection in the Great Hall are frowned upon, sir, and I apologise. It was an impulse reaction after weeks of separation - it won’t happen again.”

“Of course not.” Cutter folded his arms, “But is it really appropriate for the Head Boy to be seeing a known troublemaker? Think of the impact that could have on your future career.”

“If we wrote off all troublemakers, they’d never improve,” Kepler countered smartly. “I highly doubt my choice of boyfriend is going to matter much to the Ministry. I’ve been told they’re much more progressive, these days.”

“That may be so, but I’d hate to see your potential wasted by an unfortunate choice of partner.” It was a testament to Cutter’s supreme belief in his cause that he managed to make that sound entirely reasonable.

“What makes him _unfortunate_?” Kepler asked, showing as much irritation as he dared.

“Oh, come now, Warren,” Cutter said, as if talking to a first-year, “I surely don’t have to explain _that_ to you.”

“ _I_ don’t find him unfortunate,” he replied, folding his arms. “We’ve all made mistakes in our past.”

“Perhaps, but what inclination towards change has Mr Jacobi shown? He received detention for a _very_ serious incident at the end of last term, I hope you recall.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I’ve already registered my disagreement with you on that subject. The incident wasn’t serious enough to receive that level of punishment. In my opinion,” he added quickly. “Besides, I wasn’t aware there was a rule stating that the Head Boy’s partner must have a spotless record.”

Cutter shook his head, disappointed. “I was so _proud_ of you, Warren. You’re one of the best representatives of my House I’ve seen in a very long time. I thought you’d know better than this.”

“I’m happy with my choice, sir,” Warren said slowly. _Happy. Which you_ never _let me be._ “I promise, having a boyfriend will not interfere with my duties as Head Boy or my studies. And if you have no other objections,” he continued, a little more annoyance showing on his face, “because I’m sure, as _Headmaster_ , you could not be objecting to Daniel’s House or his _blood status_ -”

Cutter’s eyes were icy. “That’s _enough,_ Mr Kepler. You’ve made your perspective _very_ clear. You may return to your House.”

“Thank you, sir,” Warren said stiffly, and turned to leave.

“One last thing, though,” Cutter’s tone had never previously been so poisonous towards him. “In your place, I would be considering who is best placed to aid you in your ambitions. And who it would be… _unwise_ to alienate.” He waved his hand. “Now run along.”

Warren left the office, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew he’d been all but ordered to break up with Jacobi there and then, and the Warren Kepler of a year ago might have done so. He pushed past the unease and reminded himself that there was more than one way to get into the Ministry, Cutter be damned.

*

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” A puff of silvery smoke, then nothing. Lovelace cursed under her breath. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re telling me,” Jacobi grumbled, legs swinging underneath him as he sat on the edge of a desk. The classroom was empty. “Expecto Patronum,” he practically sighed, giving his wand a half-hearted wave. “Can’t we call it a day?”

“You know he’ll test us on it next week whether we practice or not, and I _bet_ he’s enlisted our dorm-mates to make sure we actually work on this.” Minkowski’s Disappointed Face was a force to be reckoned with, especially if you had to wake up to it. She tried again, and received a shadowy, indistinct shape. “Though this is pretty pointless.”

“I haven’t even got _smoke,_ ” Jacobi complained. “What are you thinking about?”

She shrugs, “What I always used to think of. My friends. It used to _work_ , too!” It had been a jay, lively and clever. Nothing now.

“Wait,” he said, frowning. “So you’ve done this before? Produced a proper Patronus?”

She raised her eyebrows, “What, you think I gave Kepler, Young and Pryce some good competition in this class because I spent my time in it doing nothing?”

“No,” Jacobi argued, “but I thought you’d been stuck in remedial defence with me for a _reason._ I’ve never managed to make the stupid thing work. How do you just _forget_ a spell?”

“I didn’t _forget,_ ” she retorts. “It’s just a weird spell. It… changes.” _I changed._

“Well, if it’s changed… Try something new,” he suggested, twirling his wand idly. “A new memory for a new spell.”

“Yes, because this has been a _great_ year for memories,” she said, and changed the subject: “How are _you_ struggling with this? Rumour has it that you’re having a great time.” After that kiss in the Great Hall, rumour had plenty to fuel it.

“Oh, shut up. Never been great at spellwork - give me Potions, any day. But I just can’t _get_ this.”

“How hard can happy memories be? You’re fifteen, you can’t always be a grumpy git,” she teased.

“Yes I can,” he retorted, almost laughing. “I don’t know, it’s… complicated. Every time I think of something good, I remember the bad things too. Like - sorry,” he said suddenly, looking away. “You don’t care about any of this.”

“It’s got to be more helpful than producing more smoke than the Hog’s Head on a Saturday night,” she replied, sitting down beside him on the desk. “Come on, tell me, don’t leave a girl hanging.”

“Ugh, it’s stupid.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking down. “I started off by thinking about the first time I met my best friend, right? But that just made me think of church, and my dad, and my stupid village. So I started thinking about Quidditch, but that made me think about _the incident,_ then I thought about my boyfriend, but that’s complicated too, and it’s just - _ugh,_ ” he said again, kicking the desk. “I like the spells that are just point and shoot, you know?”

“And you got _Hufflepuff_ with that attitude?” she joked, but it seemed to fall flat. She tried to recall the feeling of calling a Patronus before. “It’s not about your entire life. It’s about a moment, a feeling…” _Being surrounded by her friends, talking and laughing and yawning. Being together, being alive…_ How had the Forest broken that memory for her?

“Being a Hufflepuff doesn’t necessarily mean you’re _good_ at working,” he pointed out sullenly. “Said Hufflepuff, ‘I’ll take the lot, and treat them just the same’. That’s the only reason I’m there, because I wouldn’t fit in any…” he stopped, and stared off into the distance, as if looking at something. “There’s an idea,” he said, half to himself.

“Try it,” she says, immediately.

“I - all right.” With a sudden burst of renewed determination, he gripped his wand tighter and concentrated on just one moment. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A burst of silver, and then nothing but smoke. He grinned anyway. “Did you see that?”

“You nearly got it!” She was smiling too. “What did you think of?”

“First night at Hogwarts,” Jacobi said, still staring happily at the smoke. “Walking into the dormitory. They’re really nice, the Hufflepuff rooms, they’re all warm and yellow and… uh, welcoming.”

She frowned, trying to picture a room she’d never actually seen. “So you felt… welcomed? Accepted?”

“Yeah,” Jacobi said, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want Hufflepuff, but I walked into the dorm and Eiffel was there talking non-stop like he’d known me all my life, and all my stuff was there waiting for me, Hufflepuff uniform and all, and it felt like… I don’t know, belonging? Like home.”

Belonging. Acceptance. The words sank uneasily on her ears. But they were clearly helping Jacobi, so… “Try for that feeling again? A moment where you felt like you belonged?” The advice had worked for her, once upon a time.

“Belonging,” Jacobi said decisively, trying to think. “Right. Um… belonging, acceptance…” _Being wanted. Valued._ He held up his wand again, thinking of Warren and the Great Hall and of not being a secret. “Expecto Patronum!”

A silvery form sprang from his wand and landed at his feet, looking around itself with interest. A fox. It was so perfect he almost laughed.

“Do you see that? I did it!” he beamed.

“I noticed.” Lovelace tried not to sound bitter. “It looks - good. Solid.” So had hers, before the Forest. “I don’t suppose the professor would accept an essay instead?”

“Nope,” Jacobi said, giving the fox one last fond look before it disappeared. “Come on, you helped me, I gotta return the favour. That’s Hufflepuff values for you, huh? What about your Sorting?”

She laughed, “The Hat barely even touched my head before I got Gryffindor. It wasn’t much to remember.”

“House cup? Quidditch cup? O.W.L results? First kiss?”

She made a face, “Can you be a _little_ less generic?”

“Hey, it’s not like I know you very well,” Jacobi pointed out. “Come on, _one_ of those has gotta work. Or…”

_Belonging. Acceptance._ She hadn’t felt either of those much since she came out of the Forest, and came back _wrong._

_“_ Don’t hit me,” Jacobi said suddenly, “but I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m listening,” she replied, turning slightly to look at him.

“Sorry if this is out of line, but you could do a Patronus before your Forest adventure, right? I know trauma can mess up spellwork on things like this.” He paused, giving her space to reply.

“So you think I’m _traumatised?_ ” She rolled her eyes. She didn’t need _another_ person thinking she came back broken.

“Well, duh,” Jacobi said simply. “Of course you are, I mean, who wouldn’t be? You survived some scary shit. Frankly, it’s amazing you’re holding up as well as you are. But that’s not the point, the point is that if you’re different, which you are, you shouldn't be trying to conjure a Patronus in the same way. Right? You should pick a happy memory from _after_ the Forest, instead of trying to hold onto something that made you happy before.” He looked at her curiously, trying to judge her reaction. “Just a suggestion.”

She sighed. “It’s worth a shot, I guess.” She didn’t have many happy memories of being held back a year, away from her friends, but… there was something. _The smell of hot chocolate, a shared blanket, a head against her shoulder_. “Expecto Patronum!”

A bright silver light flooded the room as a huge silver shape appeared before them. Not a jay, it was far too big. An albatross.

“Fucking hell,” Jacobi laughed in surprise, staring at it. “ _Nice_.”

“It… changed.” Lovelace stared at the bird blankly as it swooped about the ceiling, then faded. “I guess you were right.”

“Duh,” he replied affably, then frowned as he saw her expression. “Hey, don’t freak out. Take it from me - changing who you are as a person? I _know_ that. It’s okay. It can be a good thing.”

Lovelace ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe for you. But I was _fine_ before… all this. My Patronus was fine. It didn’t _need_ to change.”

Jacobi shrugged. “Yeah, but it happened anyway. And I’m sure it _sucked_ , but... I think maybe learning to live with that is better than trying to go back to the way things were before, you know? You’re different now. And you have an _albatross_. That’s pretty cool.”

“I guess it is.” She was still staring at the ceiling, but her tone was more thoughtful now. “Looked pretty badass, anyway.”

“Hell yeah, it did,” he agreed. “Anyway, could be worse. Eiffel’s is a bunny rabbit. A really tiny one.”

“Really?” she grinned, “That’s _adorable._ ”

He nodded. “He’s annoyingly good at it, actually. And Warren has a _panther_. Do you know how intimidating that is? He said he’d help me practice, but when the person next to you is conjuring up an entire fucking panther, it’s like - what’s the point?” He twirled his wand, looking at the spot where the fox had been. “But a fox, that’s cool.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Looks like neither of us are going to fail Defence Against the Dark Arts this year after all.” That would be one in the eye for Cutter. She slid down from the desk. “Back to our respective common rooms to celebrate?”

“I have somewhere else to be, actually,” he grinned, checking his watch. “My boyfriend should be done with the Head Boy thing by now.”

She raised her eyebrows, “You… have fun with that, I guess. I’m heading back to Gryffindor Tower to get some sleep and prove to my dorm-mate I can actually cast this stupid Charm.”

“If she doesn’t believe you, you have a witness. What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

Lovelace stiffened. “What deal? Minkowski and I get on fine.” They had before the Yule Ball, anyway.

He shrugged, getting down from the desk and picking up his schoolbag. “Thought I heard Eiffel mention something. Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t,” she said, shortly. She grabbed her bag to leave, but turned with a smile as she reached the door: “Tell your dorm-mate he’s full of shit for me!”

“I tell him that every day,” Jacobi replied, following her out.

*

Kepler’s expression was uncharacteristically grim when Jacobi caught up with him after the meeting.

“Hi,” he greeted him, shortly, continuing to walk a little faster than Jacobi could keep up. “Good day?”

“Yeah,” Jacobi said, deflating slightly at his boyfriend’s disinterested greeting. “Uh, I did it. The Patronus.”

“Really? That’s great.” Kepler tried to inject some enthusiasm into his tone. “What did you get?”

“A fox. Only saw it for a few seconds, but it was definitely there.” He nudged Kepler’s shoulder with his head, trying to worm his way in under his arm. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, “Just Cutter being Cutter. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“Well, now I’m even _more_ concerned.”

Kepler wrapped an arm around his shoulders and absentmindedly kissed the top of his head. “Seriously, stop worrying about me. I can look after myself.”

He smiled at the contact, but wouldn’t let the subject go. “Sure, you _can,_ but you don’t have to. You’re upset, I want to help.”

Kepler tried to return his smile. “You can help me by distracting me for a while. It’s nice not to feel like I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Okay,” Jacobi said, poking him affectionately, “but this conversation isn’t over, mister. You want to know which memory finally worked?”

“Of course,” he replied, with more genuine enthusiasm for the change of subject.

Jacobi grinned, put a hand on Kepler’s chest to stop him walking, and leaned up on his tiptoes to give him a kiss.

Kepler blinked, almost dazedly. “Really?” he asked. “Which one?”

“The Welcome Feast,” Jacobi said, walking forward again to hide his blush. “I know you probably got shit for it, but… it was really nice that you wanted everyone to know. I would have been fine with it being secret!” he added quickly. “But I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.”

_I hope you never have reason to regret that,_ Kepler thought, darkly, remembering his conversation with the Headmaster, and the incident with the broken compasses. Outwardly, though, he smiled. “Who on earth would want to keep _you_ a secret?”

“Shut up, you know why,” he said, smiling. “Hey, you didn’t get in trouble for it, did you? Cutter looked pretty furious.”

_More than you know._ He shrugged, hoping it looked careless. “Cutter doesn’t own either of us. But there are plenty of more interesting things we could do this evening than talk about our teachers.”

“Oh?”

He gave him a slow smirk. “We could create some extra memories for that Patronus of yours.”

Jacobi wrinkled his nose in mock-affrontement. “That is a _bad_ line. I can’t believe it’s working on me.”

“But it _is_ working.”

“Yes.” Jacobi sighed dramatically before leaning up for another kiss with a grin, wondering where the nearest broom closet was. “It definitely is.”

*

“So, how did your practice session with Jacobi go?” Minkowski was lying on her stomach on her bed, flicking idly through one of their textbooks. She didn’t look up as she spoke to Lovelace. “Need any help, or did you two figure it out?”

“We figured it out. He can be surprisingly insightful, for a Hufflepuff.”

Minkowski laughed, and for a moment everything seemed normal again. “Well, where else would you look for insight? You certainly don’t find it in our House.”

“True,” Lovelace agreed, dropping her bag and flopping onto the bed with a sigh. “I’m wiped. Forgot how a Patronus can take it out of you.”

“It’s a difficult spell,” Minkowski said, more casual than soothing. “I only got it because I spent all summer practicing, and I didn’t _really_ form a corporeal Patronus till last term.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lovelace said a little testily. “I spent all of _my_ fifth-year summer practicing.” _Two years ago._

Minkowski actually looked at her now. “You know that wasn’t a dig at you, right?” She waited for a response, then sighed and turned back to her book. “You know what, fine. We can do it this way too.”

“Do _what?_ ”

Minkowski waved a hand vaguely in her direction. “ _This._ You being… weird. Snappy. You’ve barely _looked_ at me since term started, and it’s kind of pissing me off.”

“I’m not being snappy,” Lovelace retorted. “You’re just being sensitive.”

“...And you just did it again.” She gave an irritated huff. “Seriously, what did I do to you aside from…” _That disaster at the Yule Ball. Surely I’m not_ that _bad a kisser?_

“It’s - it’s not about you,” Lovelace said finally. “Sorry. It’s me. Not your fault.”

Minkowski tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure about that?” _You’re not doing this to anyone else._ “We still have to share a room, you know. If there’s a problem, we need to talk about it.”

Lovelace raised an eyebrow. “If you’d done something to upset me, do you _really_ think I wouldn’t tell you? Trust me, you’d know about it. Look, it’s just a stupid thing I need to work through on my own.” She tried her best to look placated, and hoped Minkowski would change the subject.

Instead, the other girl rolled onto her back, throwing her book aside with an exasperated groan. “ _Fine._ As I said, we can do it this way.”

Lovelace rolled her eyes and lay back on the pillows, still thinking about remedial Defence class with Jacobi. He’d been _helpful,_ but… something from his little speech still nagged at her. “Minkowski?” she asked.

“What is it?” She sounded less irritated, but not exactly cheerful.

“Do I act like I’m traumatised?”

Minkowski looked up at her with a frown. “... Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, trying to appear as casual as one could when discussing trauma. “Just something someone said to me earlier.”

The other girl folded her arms thoughtfully, “Sometimes you do, I guess. But that’s not really surprising, given what you survived.”

“But I’m _not,_ ” Lovelace said forcefully.

Minkowski paused, as though weighing her words carefully, then: “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

“Obviously not if I’m _asleep,_ ” Lovelace replied. “I do?”

“Mm-hmm. Most nights.” Another pause. “I say talking, it’s a little more… violent than that.” _Closer to terrified screaming._

“But I’m… I’m _fine,_ ” Lovelace said, looking up at the canopy of her bed. “I’m fine, aren’t I? I wake up, I go to class, I hang out with my friends. I’m not crying in a hospital ward somewhere. I’m _dealing._ ”

_But you’re not, are you? Or you wouldn’t have rejected her at the ball,_ a voice in Lovelace’s head said. She looked over at the other girl, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. It would have taken an idiot to not notice the younger girl’s crush on her in the years leading up to her disappearance. It had been sweet before, and now they were older it was… more than tempting. But Minkowski liked the _old_ Isabel Lovelace; the Quidditch star, the prankster. She didn’t deserve to be stuck with the new one who snapped at her and screamed in her sleep. It was for her own good.

“Trauma doesn’t mean not dealing,” Minkowski said, tone still careful. “It just means you have more… stuff to deal with. And maybe you need to be different to deal with that stuff, but that doesn’t mean the change is a bad thing.” She paused again, then added: “Nobody’s fine all the time, Isabel. You don’t have to be.”

Isabel didn’t say anything for a moment, because she couldn’t bring herself to sound choked up in front of her. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Maybe.”

There was a soft creak, and she felt a movement in the bed beneath her as someone sat down beside her. Minkowski didn’t move any closer, but she stayed within touching distance, grey eyes seeming to seek permission for… something. When Isabel didn’t immediately dismiss her, she slid onto the bed more centrally and crossed her legs.

“Want to be… not fine with me for a little bit?” she said, softly. “It’ll be our secret.” _Like the hot chocolate. Like the sleep-talking._

_You shouldn’t encourage her,_ Lovelace told herself, but she was tired, and lonely, and not-fine. She gently lowered her head onto the other girl’s shoulder. She wasn’t much of a hugger as a rule, so she hoped that would be enough. It felt enough for her.

Renée leant her cheek against the older girl’s hair and closed her eyes. _It’s okay,_ she told herself, _I can do this. This can be enough._

*

“He’s bored of me,” Jacobi said, kicking a stone along the edge of the Great Lake.

“You don’t know that,” Maxwell replied, pulling her cloak tighter about her.

“He _is,_ ” he argued sullenly. He’d known it for days now, in the way that Warren sped up when he passed by, or kept his distance in public, or spent long nights in the library. “What the fuck did I do?”

“This might not even be about you,” she insisted, “Have you _asked_ him?”

“Yeah, I keep asking if anything’s wrong, but he always changes the subject. Or invents an excuse to leave.”

Maxwell crossed her arms. “And you haven’t told him that that’s just making you feel like this is your fault?”

“No…” _I’m just trying to drag this out as long as I can._ He sat down on a tree stump, chin in his hands. “If it wasn’t about me, he’d just _tell_ me.”

“Unless he thinks that whatever it is would worry you more or put you in danger. You know how some of those old families can be.” She waved her hands vaguely, “Most of them are still living in the Renaissance, blood-feuds and all.” It didn’t sound exactly plausible when she put it like that. “You could just… tell him he’s stressing you out by refusing to tell you?”

Jacobi flashed her a wry grin. “Yeah, I _could,_ or I could bitch about it to you while I wait for him to dump me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, _boys._ You’re all so dramatic about this, thank Merlin I don’t have to date one of you.”

“God, I’d never let you date a boy. I know how awful they are.” He dragged a toe around in the grass. “What if he’s in trouble somehow?”

“You know the best way to figure that out?” She poked him in the ribs. “ _Talk to him._ Properly, not your usual ‘oh-but-then-he-smiled’ copout.”

“I don’t do that!” he argued. “I _talk_ to him. He’s my _boyfriend._ For now.”

Alana gave him a Look. “You know, him being your boyfriend doesn’t mean you necessarily _talk_ all that much.”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about, and neither do you, you’re far too young.” He ruffled her hair. “I just… don’t want to push him, you know? If nothing’s actually wrong, and I’m just being _paranoid…_ ”

She hip-checked him in a way which was _almost_ a hug. “If you’re just being _paranoid,_ he’ll want to reassure you, genius. He’s your _boyfriend._ ”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “I know. I know. I should go talk to him now, it’s just so hard to get hold of him these days.”

Alana tilted her head to one side, looking completely confused. “Daniel, we all live in the same building. And after five years, it’s not all that big. It shouldn’t be that difficult to track him down.”

“I told you, he’s avoiding me. This would be so much easier if we were in the same House. I’ll try again tonight, okay?”

She gave him a wide smile. “You’ll do it. You’re my brother, you can do _anything._ ”

“Aww, come here, kiddo.” Grinning, he pulled her into a side-hug. “You always know what to say.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring is sprung! Next week; good little prefects, anti-teacher protocols, knitting club, brownies, and the warmer part of the dungeons.


	9. spring term (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright,” Eiffel said when the candles in the classroom were lit. “What’s the first rule of Knitting Club?”
> 
> “We don’t talk about Knitting Club,” the others chorused, with a groan.

_ renée minkowski, age 11 _

There were a lot of things Renée Minkowski didn’t understand. Why her parents had moved from Poland to England just in time for her to start Hogwarts, why she’d been sorted into Gryffindor, why her entire House - her entire  _ year  _ really - were so  _ irritating. _ But History of Magic? That was one thing she understood _perfectly._

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, under her breath, “Who were the Founders even  _ hiding  _ from? Nobody was persecuting wizards in the Dark Ages!”

The ghost professor didn’t even notice her comment, and she thought it would go ignored as everything else that happened in History of Magic  did, when she felt a slight tap on her shoulder.

“Actually,” the Ravenclaw behind her whispered, “in later Anglo-Saxon England, wizards were suspected of having ties to the elves and persecuted for it.”

Minkowski twisted around in her seat to look at the other girl. Small, white-haired. Unfamiliar, but she didn’t know most of the Ravenclaws. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, flatly, “Are elves even indigenous  to Britain? Not House Elves, proper fae.”

The girl blinked in surprise, and then her wide silver eyes sharpened. They were unnaturally bright. “I don’t know,” she hissed. “Why don’t you ask  _ my grandmother. _ ”

Oh. This was awkward. But not a reason to lose an argument. “Your grandmother remembers  _ Anglo-Saxon England? _ ” She took a brief survey of the other girl’s features. Probably fae of some kind at some point, her features were sharp enough, even if she didn’t have the ‘supernatural beauty’ down. “You’re making that up.”

The girl coloured pink, and leaned further across her desk. “I did not have to go through years of stupid family history lectures for  _ this. _ Go read a book.”

“ _ You  _ go read a book. Who exactly was persecuting anyone in the tenth century except maybe the Vikings? I knew wizarding Britain was isolationist, but that kind of fiction’s  _ insane. _ ” She folded her arms, “You think Hogwarts was founded because of Muggle persecution? Prove it.”

“ _ Fine.  _ If you actually look at -”

“Miss Pryce, Miss Min-” the teacher stammered on her name, then continued: “Now is not the time for chattering.”

He turned back to the blackboard, and Minkowski blinked at the other girl in surprise. “Are you really a Pryce?” The family were famous - or infamous - on both sides of the Channel.  _ Especially  _ in magical history.

“Ugh, yes, I’m -” she paused, looked at the teacher, then back at Minkowski. “Wait, he can’t say your name? That’s rude.”

She sighed. “Min _ kov _ ski,” she said, emphasizing the correct pronunciation. “Renée Minkowski. I only moved here this year.  _ Nobody  _ gets it right.”

The girl wrinkled her nose, and then shot her hand up. A quiet surprise rippled through the room. Clearly, she wasn’t someone who spoke up often.

“Yes, Miss Pryce?” Renée realised with quiet surprise that the teacher  _ never  _ got the other girl’s name wrong. There was always a Pryce at Hogwarts.

She seemed less confident when talking to an adult, but she fixed him with her best stare. “Her name is  _ Minkowski. _ ”

The teacher blinked, slowly, as if he didn’t know how to respond to such an interruption, then picked up the thread of his lecture and continued to drone on.

Minkowski’s cheeks were probably as red as her hair now, she could feel everybody staring, and the other girl seemed to shrink under their gaze to the point where she was almost painful to look at. But before she looked away, Renée smiled, and whispered: “Thanks for trying. No-one else has.”

The next day, she realised that, as alone as she was at the Gryffindor table, the other girl seemed equally isolated in Ravenclaw, though a few of the older students ruffled her hair as they passed her. Picking up her plate, she walked over.

“Mind if I sit here?” she said. The other girl looked up, startled. “I didn’t get your name yesterday.”

The girl tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled at her. “Hera.”

She sat down beside her, returning the smile, “You’re the first person I’ve met here who got my name right,  _ and  _ cares enough to argue with me about History of Magic. Can we-”

She didn’t get to finish that question, as a Hufflepuff boy with unbrushed hair skidded over and took the seat on Hera’s other side.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he chanted, “I overslept again, it was Jacobi’s fault- Doug Eiffel, by the way, you’re Minkowski, right?”

The mispronunciation grated, but she did her best to keep smiling. It was  _ much  _ better than eating breakfast alone.

*

_ present day, outside the slytherin common room _

“Hey.” Kepler was trying to regain his usual smoothness after nearly tripping over his boyfriend, who’d been lurking outside the entrance to Slytherin House. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Everything alright?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Jacobi shot him a nervous grin. “You’ve been harder to track down than Maxwell in exam season.”

Kepler tried to return the grin with his most charming smile, “Feeling neglected? I’m sorry, Cutter’s been running me ragged. I’ll try to sneak us some time together next Hogsmeade weekend?”  _ Outside the castle. Where he won’t see us, so you won’t be in any danger. _ Try as he might to reason with himself, he couldn’t get Minkowski’s serious expression as she looked at the broken compasses out of his head.

“Not neglected,” Jacobi reassured quickly, “just… concerned? About you.”

“Worried about me, angel? I’m touched, but really, I’m fine.” Even as he attempted to reassure Jacobi, he was already starting to look around nervously. “Walk with me a little way? It’s drafty down here.” He began to lead them away from the busier corridors, towards a quieter corner of the dungeons, where he could be sure Cutter wouldn’t show up unexpectedly.

“Ah, yes, the  _ warmer  _ part of the… dungeons. Quiet,” Jacobi commented, nudging him affectionately.

“Hey, you’re not the one who has to sleep down here,” he teased back, “You’re all cosy down near the kitchens.” 

“We’re still underground! We just chose the bit that wasn’t under the lake, duh. Helga Hufflepuff knew what she was doing.” There was a pause that was only slightly awkward as he tried to think of the right words. “So, uh…”

“You wanted to talk to me?” Kepler prompted him. He looked so  _ nervous  _ he ached to reassure him, and they were safe enough down here to talk at least.

“I, uh…” he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Look, do you need a get-out-of-jail-free card? Because… that’s okay.”

Kepler blinked. “A  _ what? _ ”

“You know, a… Oh, Christ, stupid wizards don’t have Monopoly. Um.” He stepped backwards a little, and sighed. “It means - it means that if you need to dump me to save your reputation, that’s okay. I understand.”

“ _ Dump  _ you?” Kepler realised he was starting to sound like an echo, and gave a nervous laugh. “Daniel, whatever gave you  _ that  _ idea?”  _ What’s the point in keeping you safe if I have to lose you to do it? _

“Because you’ve suddenly become allergic to being seen with me in public? Look, if you’re getting shit for this, you can just  _ tell  _ me.” He folded his arms. “You said you  _ didn’t  _ want this to be a secret. I’m not a fan of being messed around, so pick a story and stick to it.”

“I don’t want this to be a secret,” he said, quickly. It was true, after all. “And I don’t want to mess you around, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you ever since you blew up the Gryffindor Quidditch team!”

Jacobi raised an eyebrow. “Maybe try that one again.”

Kepler shut his eyes, embarrassed. “Okay, I didn’t mean to say that, but the pyrotechnics were pretty hot. I just…” There  _ had  _ to be a good way out of this. One that didn’t involve losing Jacobi one way or the other. “I’m just worried about  _ you  _ getting into trouble. Cutter’s petty like that.” An explanation that  _ didn’t  _ sound entirely paranoid.

Jacobi relaxed slightly, putting his arms down. “Wait, seriously? The  _ Headmaster  _ can’t target a student like that. Don’t you think you’re being a little overprotective?” 

Kepler’s smile at that was entirely genuine. “What’s overprotective when I’m protecting  _ you? _ ” he teased, stepping a little closer.

“Are you hiding so people won’t know how  _ sappy  _ you are?” Jacobi asked, but relented a little, nosing forward to fit under Kepler’s arm.

“Well, it would ruin my image if that got out.” He kissed him. “You, however, add to it. Nobody who doesn’t want their class notes mysteriously catching fire is going to get in  _ our _ way.”

“So no more hiding in damp corridors?” Jacobi asked pointedly.

“As long as the Headmaster’s not around, we can go anywhere you like, angel. I just don’t want him giving you hell after I’ve left.”  _ Or sending you there at any point.  _ He hoped he was wrong, that Cutter wouldn’t go that far, but just in case...

Jacobi poked him. “I can look after myself, I don’t need a  _ bodyguard.  _ But I suppose you’re off the hook. Have we got time to hang out before lights out? Somewhere… not here?” He didn’t fancy being in the dungeons any longer than he had to.

“Plenty of time,” Kepler replied, relieved. “Lead the way.” He’d work out what to do about Cutter later. But just because he couldn’t involve Jacobi - or Rachel, his usual collaborator - didn’t mean he’d have to do this alone, he realised. There was one other person in the castle who shared his suspicions, and, he suspected, his reason for investigating.

*

Minkowski folded her arms as the other Prefects filed back to their Common Rooms, Lambert pausing at the door before she shook her head at him and turned to Kepler.

“You wanted to talk to me?” she prompted. “Have I done anything wrong?” Kepler had been avoiding her since their trip into the Forest. Not that they’d ever been friends before, but her outburst hadn’t done anything to bring them closer.

“No,” he smiled benevolently, “you can stand down. I was hoping for your help with something. Walk with me?”

She stared at him. “...Sure,” she agreed, eyes flicking about nervously as they left the empty classroom to wander the corridors in no particular direction, as far as she could tell. “As long as we don’t get in trouble for being out of our Common Rooms out of hours.”

“Are you forgetting I’m the Head Boy, or?”

She rolled her eyes, “Being Head Boy isn’t diplomatic immunity. And shouldn’t we be setting a good example to the rest of the school?”

He  _ tsked  _ impatiently. “I can find someone else -”

She stopped and folded her arms. “If you were going to talk about this with  _ anyone  _ else, you wouldn’t have held me back after the Prefects’ meeting, you’d have picked someone else. Someone you trust. So clearly, this is something you want me specifically for. So you can tell me what’s going on right now or we can just go back to our Houses and pretend this didn’t happen.”

Kepler only just refrained from rolling his eyes. “You want to find out what  _ really  _ happened with those compasses, or do you want to go to bed like a good little Prefect? Choice is yours.”

She stared at him, then had to jog to catch up. “It’s been  _ months.  _ What happened to ‘be careful?’”

“Things have changed.”

“Like wha-  _ oh. _ ” She looked disgusted. “This isn’t really about the compasses. This is about  _ Jacobi.  _ That’s so… classically Slytherin. You don’t give a damn when it’s not someone  _ you  _ care about.”

“And how typically Gryffindor,” Kepler retorted immediately, “pushing your own particular moral compass onto others. Yes, I have more at stake in this matter now, so I’m getting involved. You sure as hell weren’t going to get anything done on your own, so quit complaining.”

Her expression didn’t change, but she followed him in silence for a few minutes. “Where are you taking us?” she asked, finally. “We’ve been up and down this corridor three times already.”

“You don’t know?” He paused opposite a tapestry.  _ I need a room where Cutter won’t bother us. _ He could feel the door materialise under his hand, and it swung open as he shoved the tapestry over it aside. 

“What the hell…” Minkowski looked uncomprehendingly at the doorway. “There isn’t a room there. There’s  _ never  _ been a room there before.”

“You’re never going to get Head Girl with your knowledge of the castle,” he sighed, and showed her inside. “Ah, perfect.” A small sitting room, two chairs and a table, with plenty of parchment and two inkpots, surrounded by books. On the table was a sneakoscope, and he had the feeling there would be other anti-teacher protocols set in place. If not, he could set them himself.

She was perched awkwardly on the edge of her seat when he joined her on the other armchair. “So, do you have any more ideas than me?” she said. “I’ve still got these.” She drew the broken compasses out of the pocket of her robes. “The spell-work on them was tricky, but they were keyed to misdirect Lovelace and  _ only  _ Lovelace. And they both point the same way, but I can’t tell if that’s a coincidence or they were meant to be leading her somewhere.”

“Deeper into the Forest, if I know Cutter,” he said, studying them intently. “Do you just carry these around with you, or?”

She looked defensive. “I wasn’t going to leave them lying around in my dorm where  _ anyone  _ could take them,” she snapped. “They’re  _ evidence.  _ But why would Cutter want to get her lost anyway? What’s Isabel ever done to him?”

“Her disappearance was a big embarassment for the school,” Kepler mused. “If she’d died or been lost forever, it would have been a tragic accident. Now, it’s just negligence. He doesn’t take being shown up lightly.”

“So he’d lose her  _ again? _ ” Minkowski looked horrified, as a good little Gryffindor should. “How would that be any  _ less  _ embarrassing?”

“It wouldn’t. But it would be  _ fate,  _ and he’d get to enjoy his revenge. It’s not the first time a student has died in the Forest, after all. Reportedly.”

Minkowski’s horror only increased. This was going to get  _ very  _ boring if she was just going to gape the entire time. “Wait,  _ what? _ And he sent  _ us  _ in there? I thought he liked you!”

He shook his head. “Our compasses worked fine. Although, word to the wise, Cutter doesn’t  _ like  _ anyone. He likes it when people are useful to him.”  _ And I’m failing him. _

She folded her arms with a shudder. “You said there were rumours about things happening to other students in the Forest.” She tilted her head to one side, thoughtfully. “And  _ Cutter  _ asked us if we remembered the last students to get detention there…”

“Oh good, you’re catching up.” He stood up and scanned the books on the nearest shelf, selecting one at random, knowing it would be right. “Here: student records for 1996. Look up Zhang, Gryffindor.”

She flicked through the pages, “She looks like a pretty good student. Good grades, got to be Prefect…” she frowned. “And I’ve never heard her name before. Wizarding Britain isn’t that small…”

“You wouldn’t. It was covered up.” He pointed at the year of her graduating class. “Never happened. She got lost in the Forest just before NEWTs. She was set to get the highest grades Hogwarts had ever seen, but she got distracted in the run-up to exam season, there was talk of her dropping out early to play in a band or something. Would have been embarrassing, no?”

“Very…” She frowned, looked up at the titles in front of her, and back to the book. “I wonder…” she leant down, and grabbed another book, this one a copy of records of detentions for the same year. “Zhang, Zhang…” She scanned the pages, then stopped. “Look here. She got a detention in the Forbidden Forest too, June of that year.” She looked up at Kepler. “Is there any mention of her after that? Or the students who were with her?” She began to list off names. “Tate? Oswin? Smith? Gillen? Clark?”

He flicked through the records, nodding at each name she listed off. “Two more students disappeared later, after graduation. And it looks like the others ended up at St Mungo’s. I wonder if they’re still there, or even capable of speech…”

Her hands were shaking as she put the book aside and began to check the next year’s records. “What could  _ do  _ that to someone?”

“That’s what I was hoping we could figure out. I know you like a good puzzle.” He put the book down, trying not to think about the fates of the other students. Not that he was usually squeamish, but he didn’t usually have someone to protect.

“Nothing in ‘97,” she said, returning the book to the shelf with astonishing speed. “Everyone in the class of that year graduated. ‘98, ‘99…” She flicked through, checking graduation after graduation until… “Here, 2003. Two students don’t graduate. One due to ‘ill health’, the other…” She handed him the book. “Just gone. Like Elisabeth Zhang.”

“I remember this story,” Kepler mused. “He was a Slytherin. Model student. All he left behind was a pocket watch - I think it’s still in the Common Room, in a display case. We used to use the story to scare the first-years into behaving.”

“Who did  _ he  _ piss off?” Minkowski wondered aloud, continuing to flick through graduation classes. 

Kepler swallowed, shoving the book away as casually as he could. “He got detention for duelling after hours - something about a messy break-up, or a student romance gone wrong, I can’t remember.” Something turned in his stomach, and he tried to ignore it as she kept researching.

“Look, another one in 2010… just one this time.” She frowned, and checked the last few books almost perfunctorily, as though she didn’t expect to find anything. “1996, 2003, 2010… When did Cutter become Headmaster, again?”

“1989,” Kepler replied.

She narrowed her eyes as though calculating something. “Every seven years. He’s lost a student to the Forest every seven years since he became Headmaster.” He could see her pale even in the half-light from the fire. “This year’s 2017. If Cutter’s the one behind this…”

“Then you’d better keep a very close eye on Miss Lovelace,” he said darkly, closing the book with a snap. “Enough for tonight. I have things I need to check on.”  _ Someone I need to check on. _

She nodded, stacking the relevant record books on the table. “So do I. But we will come back to this.” Her tone showed no hint of a request, only steely determination. 

“Of course. But just you and me,” he warned. 

She nodded, though she felt a twinge of guilt at not telling her friends about the danger they currently stood in. “We don’t want  _ anyone  _ finding out about this before we have enough evidence to take Cutter down.”

*

“Alright,” Eiffel said when the candles in the classroom were lit. “What’s the first rule of Knitting Club?”

“We don’t talk about Knitting Club,” the others chorused, with a groan. 

Minkowski added, “Because  _ someone  _ forgot to get permission from the Headmaster before setting it up.” The Headmaster may or may not be a murderer, but he was still the  _ Headmaster  _ until proved guilty.

“I can’t see the Headmaster having a problem with  _ knitting, _ ” Jacobi pointed out. “But I swear to God, Eiffel, if you make me reference Fight Club one more time -”

“Hey, no spoiling the Sacred Rules of Knitting Club!” Eiffel interrupted.

“What’s Fight Club?” Hera asked, blinking innocently.

Minkowski rolled her eyes, “Some stupid movie Eiffel likes. Can we  _ please  _ get to the actual knitting before lights out? Or at least an explanation for why you’ve dragged a radio in here when you  _ know  _ they don’t work at Hogwarts?”

“Because they  _ should, _ ” Eiffel said, insistently, “They work in other high-magic environments, why wouldn’t they work here?” He went back to poking the radio with his wand, but only white noise crackled from the speakers.

“Because Cutter doesn’t want us getting any news that’s not from the _ Prophet? _ ” Jacobi suggested. “You know, God forbid we got like, BBC Question Time or something. We might actually know what’s going on in the world.”

“Maybe it’s the mountains,” Maxwell suggested. “Don’t they block radio waves?”

“Clearly not all of them,” Eiffel said, triumphantly, as gentle acoustic guitar music emerged from the speakers. “Look, I was right! Is nobody going to congratulate my genius?”

Minkowski and Jacobi gave a simultaneous slow clap, then looked at each other in surprise.

“It’s very good,” Hera said, smiling indulgently. “Do you know what it’s picking up?”

He shook his head, “I’m not sure, but it’s a start, right? I can work out what frequencies it can detect later.” His eyes lit up with a gleam that caused Minkowski to roll her eyes, “Guys, we could set up a Radio Club!”

Minkowski folded her arms, “You don’t think you’re overcommitting yourself just a  _ little? _ ”

“Minkowski, you have no faith in me,” he replied, looking disappointed. “Don’t you  _ want  _ to learn to knit?”

She snorted, “Why do you think I’m here, genius?”

“ _ I  _ don’t want to learn to knit,” Jacobi pointed out. “Why am I here?”

“Hufflepuff solidarity?” Eiffel said, cheerfully.

“Also, you lost one of your weird fingerless Quidditch gloves and cried,” Maxwell supplied helpfully.

“ _ I was not crying _ , _ ”  _ Jacobi shot back immediately, going red. “My eyes were red because it was windy on the pitch!”

“Sure you weren’t,” Eiffel agreed, still cheerful, “and Minkowski’s not here to keep an eye on me, and  _ Maxwell - _ ” He paused, then winked at Hera, making her turn bright red. “Well, I won’t say any more about that. Who knows anything about knitting already?”

To the surprise of everyone in the room, Jacobi and Maxwell reluctantly put up their hands.

“Brownies?” Jacobi checked.

“Brownies,” Maxwell agreed.

“ _ Brownies? _ ” Minkowski and Hera looked at each other in confusion, “Aren’t they Scottish House Elves or something?”

“Ah, no, it’s like… like an after-school club? You have to learn like... ‘homemaking skills’ and stuff. Earn badges.  _ Camp _ . It  _ sucked, _ ” Jacobi explained.

The two pureblood girls still looked confused, but turned to Eiffel expectantly, just in time to have balls of yarn shoved into their lap (red for Minkowski, sparkly blue for Hera). “Right, so to cast on, you go like this…”

Maxwell grabbed her own yarn and needles from the pile, then sat back down next to Jacobi, “So, you know what you’re going to make?”

“Uh…” he selected a ball of dark green wool from the pile, a little self-consciously. “I think I only remember the basics, so I guess a scarf. Or a really small blanket. Or something else square.”

“Scarves are good,” Maxwell agreed, quickly. “I’m making one too.” She looked quickly between her yarn and Hera, and said more quietly: “You think she’ll like it?”

“Course she will,” Jacobi said fondly.

Alana grinned, “And you’re making something for Kepler, right? So I take it the conversation went well?” She elbowed him, “Come on, tell me!”

“You don’t know it’s for him,” Jacobi said, clumsily casting on. “Maybe I’m making something to send home to mum. But… yeah, it went okay. He didn’t dump me or anything, so I’m counting that as a win!”

She wrinkled her nose, “Why do you think he’d  _ dump  _ you for wanting to talk?” She clapped her hands over her ears as the radio gave a sudden shriek of static.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Eiffel said, dashing over to the radio, “What’s  _ happened  _ to this, it was working just fine just a second ago…” He tweaked the dial with a frown. “The signal’s pretty faint, but I’m not picking up anything else, is something blocking it?” In a few moments, the music resumed, a cheerful folk tune this time. “What even  _ is  _ this station?”

“Just turn it down,” Jacobi shot back, annoyed, and turned back to Maxwell. “All good? Want to go somewhere quiet for a bit?”

She shook her head, “It’s okay, that was just… weird.” She frowned at the radio, and wrapped her robes about her more tightly. “Can we turn it off, though? I don’t like this song.”

“ _ And if you dare to kiss my lips, sure of your body I will be… _ ” The singer on the radio trilled, and Alana shuddered as though a draft had passed through her.

“Of course.” Jacobi flicked his wand at the radio, and it fell silent.

The cheerful chatter didn’t return for a while after that, and the shadows of the room seemed suddenly colder and darker. Whether or not they registered the new chill in the air, the students drew closer to the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got distracted by writing the SESD sequels, but we're back! Next week: who knows? Haven't written it yet.


End file.
